Kings and Pawns
by ladieDAWN
Summary: Edward, King Henry's VIII's longed for heir, died at the age of fifteen. But what if he hadn't? Margaret Sidney arrives in the court of the young English King, filled with intrigue and danger. Even with the love of a King, she may still end up a pawn. (AU Tudor Fic)
1. Chapter 1

**SUMMARY – **Edward VI, King Henry's longed for heir, died at the age of fifteen. But what if he hadn't? Margaret Sidney is traveling to the young court of the English King, filled with intrigue and danger. From religious strife to assassination plots she'll soon learn that even with the love of a King, she may still end up a helpless pawn. Will she be able to find real love, or forever be a cursed courtier? In the court of a Tudor monarch, one cannot predict anything.

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**KINGS AND PAWNS**_  
Chapter I_

* * *

_October 12th, 1555_**  
Hampton Court Palace, England**

"_**T**_o the King!" the cry rang out as, yet again, glasses were raised to the throne where young King Edward rested, his face stoic and calm. He smiled at Robert Dudley, the Son of his closest adviser, and nodded his head softly. Robert continued, his glass of wine raised high. "To our most good and gracious sovereign! May he reign in God's favor for many a year!"

This was the seventh toast to the young King, and with a nod to the musicians the music started again, a lively tune which soon started up dancing in the middle of the floor. Young men and women commenced in a lively Galliard, their laughter rising as the music's tempo sped up. Edward leaned forward, his hands grasping wooden arms of the throne, as he watched his elder sister Elizabeth twirl, her bright red hair flying in a circle around her shoulders. When she smiled all could see the late King Henry, his jovial nature long forgotten after years of tyranny and a short temper. Edward smiled to himself and shook his head, eyes landing next on his sister, the Lady Mary. She sat with her ladies, in a stiff black dress. Mary always dressed austerely, in the Spanish fashion, and her dour face matched. At thirty nine King Henry's firstborn was an old maid, and her appearance at court had only been at her brother's behest. The Lady Mary was known for her secret practice of Catholicism, and her shameful worship at he alter of Papists. Edward wanted her close, to keep an eye on her. He never punished her for practicing her mother's precious faith, but he could not have her far from him, rallying support from unruly Catholic charlatans. The same went with Elizabeth. She may have been a good Protestant, but she was no less immune to attempts at taking his throne.

"Your Majesty?" a familiar voice came from his left side "His Grace the Duke of Suffolk would have an audience with the King."

Edward turned, his gaze resting on John Dudley, Duke of Nothumberland. Dudley had been Lord Protector since Edward was but a boy, after the treason of his Uncle and his subsequent beheading. He had been used to power, but now that the King was of age he was simply one of the young King's advisers, a high ranking member in his Privy Council. But Dudley had the King's ear, and that meant much in the minds of many a courtier. Dudley smiled and Edward looked past him at the Duke. Henry Grey was the husband of the Lady Francis Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk. She was close relation to Edward, being the daughter of his Aunt, May Tudor, and his Father's good friend Charles Brandon. She stood close to her husband, smiling as coyly as she could. The woman was a simpering, power hungry nuisance. She and her family were always trying their best to achieve royal favor. Behind the Duchess stood Lady Jane Grey. Edward smiled at her, truly glad. Jane was a smart girl, well versed in her scripture and a fervent Protestant. He was very pleased with her loyalty as well. She smiled back at him, giving a slight curtsy.

"Of course your Grace, of what do you wish to speak?"

"Your Majesty, first I give my humble thanks to you for inviting me and mine to your most glorious court for the season and on behalf of my-"

"Suffolk." Edward said sharply, with a cold smile on his face "Please, no flattery. I truly would hear what you have to say."

The Duke froze, his long practiced monologue brought to an early end. Jane giggled slightly, covering her face with a pomander as if she had just smelled a horrid odor. Lady Grey stiffened, her attempt at a smile faded completely.

"Yes...yes, Sire of course." He took a deep breath "I come to you on behalf of my eldest daughter, the Lady Jane." Nodding towards the girl he turned back to the King, hands clasped behind his back. "She is of age to make a good match, and we come to you, our most gracious King, to ask for permission to find her a suitable husband."

Edward looked again at his cousin Jane and felt pity for her. She was looking at the floor now, all traces of laughter gone from her face. Lord help her, one could only guess at how her parents would use her to barter for more influence and connections in court. He sighed, as if bored.

"Cousin, who did you have in mind for the Lady Jane?"

It was important that they came to Edward with their marriage choice, as Jane was in direct line for the succession after Mary and Elizabeth. That meant that her marriage could result in disastrous results for Edward, as many could rally behind Jane if she married a suitable candidate, someone with royal blood (a Yorkist or Lancastrian perhaps) and thus make a better candidate to stage an overthrow of the throne. Edward had learned these lessons early, from the controlling tactics of his Uncles. So, Jane's betrothed would have to be approved by the King. It was wise to come to him before making the decisions official.

"Sire, we have no real prospects, we were simply asking for permission to proceed with..." he stammered and looked at the rushes "...the process."

Edward gave him a blank stare, as if confused. It seemed a trifle to come, searching for permission before a choice had even been made. He nodded at his cousin, giving him permission and dismissing him in one fell swoop. Behind him Dudley closed his eyes, feeling frustration grip him. Edward had no reacted as he had hoped. Jane was the perfect bride, a suitable woman for him to have as Queen. The young King had taken no interest in any woman at all, though a marriage and heir were both important to strengthening his power. He would have to speak to the boy soon, as his hints were not seeming to work. From across the room Grey shot him a scathing look at John waved him off. Grey had been expecting something different, as Dudley had told him that the King would have reacted with concern at the thought of Jane marrying because he cared deeply for his young cousin. Dudley had only yesterday brought up the proposition to the King, but it seemed that the boy had taken no heed. He felt a pang of desperation hit him, before he calmed himself. He would have to find new tactics to quell the King's new found taste for freedom.

"Your Highness!" the Lady Elizabeth was approaching, Sir Henry Sidney walking with her to the dais. Edward's face light up at the sight of his favorite sister and his best friend. Henry Sidney had been a friend to the young King since their boyhoods and he always managed to bring a smile to the youth's face. "My dear brother, come, greet me Sire!"

He laughed loudly and stood, giving his sister a quick embrace and kissing her cheek. He turned her, lifting one of her hands in the air and presenting her to court. She curtseyed slightly, and a cheer rang out. Edward smiled at her and ushered her to a seat by him. Henry took a seat as well after a hearty welcome from the King. He had been away at Penhurst with his wife for nearly two months and his return to court was a welcome distraction.

"My dearest sister. It gladdens my heart to see you so well. How do you fare?"

"Bah!" she smiled prettily and threw up an arm "Hatfield is so horribly dreadful at times Sire, it is only for the fresh country air that my health is so robust."

"And you Sir Sidney!" he leaned forward, glad to see his friend's kind smile "It seems you have been far too busy with that young pretty wife of yours to pay any mind to your King!"

All three laughed. Mary Sidney, formerly Dudley, had married Henry four years earlier and the two had been blissfully wed since. They had one young son, Phillip, who would be a year old in November. Henry blushed slightly, shaking his head without comment.

"Actually sire, I have been busy with my sister." Henry said with a smile. Edward could see the sadness in that smile, as could Elizabeth. "After my Lady Mother's death she stayed with our Half sister, Mistress Foljambe in Croxden. But she has grown tired of country life and she has come to stay with us at Penhurst. "

"How old is the girl?" Elizabeth asked, knowing that Sir William has died a year before and his wife Mistress Anne only three months after him. She was imagining an old spinster woman, as all of Henry's other sister's were married with their own families. In fact the three Sidney sisters had made quite good marriages for themselves, especially the Lady Francis who had married Thomas Radclyffe, Earl of Sussex.

"Margaret has recently turned seventeen." Henry said, Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. That would have made Sir William nearly fifty six when the girl was conceived. Henry laughed. "Yes, she is the youngest. Mother called her a miracle babe."

Edward smiled at his friend, seeing that he was pleased when speaking of the girl. He slapped his knee and stood.

"Well Sir Henry, well have to have this sister at court." he grinned "As there is no shortage of entertainment here!"

He yelled the last words, his voice echoing off the walls in the great hall. The crowd cheered and more toasts were raised before jugglers and fire eaters and dwarfs appeared, their antics ensuing cries from all the court. Edward clapped his hands and ordered more wine, more food and more music. The revels were in full swing. As he turned to speak once more to Henry he saw the dark haired Lady Mary Sidney leaned over him, and saw him stand readying to leave. Edward turned, his eyes on the couple.

"You think to steal away my Lord Henry Madame?" he asked jovially "Now that he has come back to my court after all these months."

Mary blushed and curtseyed as her husband grinned behind her. He put an arm around the petite woman and she laughed.

"Forgive me Your Majesty, but My Lord's sister has arrived at the palace from Staffordshire."

"Well in that case, onward. Go and greet the Lady Margaret."

Henry gave a hearty chuckle and turned, he and his wife heading out of the Great Hall. Elizabeth took a sip from her glass and turned towards her brother. From afar they could see Lady Mary scowling with her ladies all huddled away from the revelries. Edward scoffed.

"It seems out Sainted Sister had quite the sour demeanor." Edward laughed, taking his own goblet "And on the Saint's Day of her beloved King no less."

Elizabeth giggled, her skirts shuffling as she settled into the seat beside her brother.

"Well count yourself blessed Majesty, to have another sister who is delighted to spend time honoring your birth."

They both laughed and Edward took her hand, leading her to the dance floor. The entire crowd had gathered in for a Pavane, all the nobility's hands touching gently as they gallivanted about the floor. Elizabeth laughed as Edward tried his best to master the steps. The two were both reminded of their days of dance lessons when the late Queen Katherine Parr had tried her best to teach them, yet they'd giggled and been horrid students. The two were again children, reminiscing simpler days when they had all been a family. A true family, for once, all but Mary. She stared on, obviously scorning the smiles and laughter. The music soared as the night wore on, and Edward marveled at reaching his eighteenth year.

Further along in the Palace, Margaret Sidney marveled at her lavish surroundings. Standing in the entrance to the Palace she looked at the marvelous paintings that lined the walls, the soft tapestries, the scented floor rushed and the simply wonderful smell of food cooking that wafted from the kitchens. Henry ran to her, his strong arms wrapping around his baby sister with relish.

She let out an oomph, her curly auburn hair still wet from the rain. She smiled at her brother as he set her down and began speaking, unable to contain herself.

"Henry, oh Henry why did you not tell me of this place?" she asked, rapture still evident in her brown eyes "It is beautiful! More so than Croxden Abbey even!"

He smiled at the girl, who reminded him so much of his mother. He knew their sisters would be itching to see little Madge in her first visit to London. She had spent much of her life at their Father's holdings in Lancashire, in the country and had only moved south a bit to Croxden after Sir William and Lady Anne's deaths. She hadn't even come to London for the funerals that had been held by the King. Sir William had been one of Edward's tutors as a boy and the Lady Anne had been one of his nurses. The Sidney's had been close to the Tudor royal family for many years but little Margaret had never been allowed at court, as her mother had been overly protective of the girl. Now, she would have her chance. She twirled, the muddy, frayed hem of her traveling gown swirling about her feet. She turned towards her sister in law, a bright smile on her face.

"Oh Mary it has been ever so long since I've last seen you!" she threw her arms around the older woman's neck "You look so beautiful. How is young master Phillip?"

She pointed as a few of her trunks were being brought in. Poor country girl that she had been she only had three. Most ladies at court had many, many more. But Henry had already asked her to assure that a tailor was ready to fit Margaret for new gowns. The girl was pretty enough, with waist length curled hair that was thick and shiny enough. She was fashionably curvy, which would help her, but she had the demeanor of an obvious naive child. Her skin was tan, not fashionably pale like the rest of the ladies. She wore no powder or paste or jewels. Her pretty hair was left un-styled with no cap or hood, and her eyebrows were unplucked in the Spanish fashion. Her gowns were obviously handmade, though they were not too unfashionable, only a few seasons out of date. She was a pretty girl and with the right help (Mary was sure she could provide it) she could snatch up a good husband in no time. She kissed the young girl's cheek lightly and smiled.

"He is as rambunctious as ever, just like his father."

"Oh I must see him! Is he here?"

"No, my dear. he is back home at Penhurst with his nurses. But don't fret, we shall surely see him at Christmas."

Margaret smiled. Suddenly, lead by her nose, she turned towards the Great Hall. Music was loud and she wanted so badly to enter. Her rain soaked hair and gown were a great worry to Mary, who put a hand on her young sister in law's shoulder.

"It is a masque?" she asked curiously "A banquet? I must see all the beautiful gowns and the food. Oh the food! Come let us-"

"Margaret, you have had a long journey. Wouldn't you much rather have a hot bath and a light meal and some rest?"

Margaret looked up at her brother, who was nodding along with his wife. She was eager, but it was a treacherous world in there and it was best to face it fully rested. The King hadn't issued her own rooms, but she could sleep in their apartments for the night before she was to find her own real place at court. Margaret gave in, her shoulders slumping.

"Ah yes. You know best sister." she smiled weakly, taking her gloves off. "And rest does sound-"

The doors banged open, the loud music and laughter and smells wafting into the hall. Margaret jumped, turning towards the noise. Her hand at her chest, she seemed startled. Standing at the doors, both thrown open, was the King of England. He wore a lavish white and gold doublet, with white silk material puffing up through the slashes and a pair of simple gold hose along with a black fur lined robe. He was shining with jewelry and his smile shone even more as he eyed the group in the room. Mary and Henry both dropped, bowing and curtseying to the King. Margaret was not so fast. She curtseyed low, thankful her sister (the Lady Margaret Foljambe) had taught her some court manners.

The King made his way towards them, followed by the Lady Elizabeth and a few followers. Nodding slightly, his eyes alight. Margaret felt color come to her cheeks and stood, her hands intertwined in front of her. Henry took a stride, taking his sister's hand.

"Your Majesty, it is a pleasure to introduce my sister, the Lady Margaret Sidney."

The King looked her over. She gave him a sweet smile. He could see she had never been touched by the court, as she looked nothing like the ladies of his own. He laughed.

"Of course. My good Lady Margaret, welcome to my court. I hope you have found it to your liking?"

She nodded, looking about the room again with wonder.

"Your Majesty it is..." she stammered and laughed softly at herself "It is most wonderful."

Edward felt a surge of humor as he watched the girl, but he was not laughing at her. She was refreshing, her youth and naivety something he had yet to see in all the guises of the many ladies he had met. Elizabeth clapped her hands behind him and when he turned to see her she had her hands on her hips, a grin on her pretty features.

"My sir Henry it is a shame that you kept this creature hidden from us!" she came forward, leaning down to get a better look at her "Already seventeen and never a day at court. And so lovely! Yes, it is positively a sin!"

Margaret's eyes met with the woman and at once she knew who she was. From the endless tales her mother had told of her days in the royal nursery and the tales that even the country folk heard. This was the Princess Elizabeth, well the Lady Elizabeth. She was even more beautiful than Margaret had imagined. She felt a surge of pride as Elizabeth complemented her.

"Thank you my lady." Margaret said with another slight curtsy and a smile "It is an honor to be included in His Majesty's court."

Henry smiled at his sister, pride and love in his face. It was his job, now that they're parents were gone, to make sure she was well taken care of and found a suitable husband. He looked up and noticed Edward watching Margaret closely and felt his heart skip a beat. But Elizabeth spoke, breaking the tension that he had begun to feel.

"Your Majesty, does the Lady Margaret have arrangements while at court?"

Edward turned towards his sister and then looked back at Margaret, who was now looking at her feet timidly.

"Sir Sidney was planning on housing her in his apartments I believe." Edward gestured towards Henry and Mary "But she has no permanent arrangements."

"Sire you shall have to let me see to this charming girl's lodgings." Elizabeth gave her brother a look and then curtsied low, before turning towards the great hall and entering. Margaret watched her go, a bit confused.

"Sire, my Lady sister is tired from her journey." Henry said with his own bow "I would thank you again for you hospitality in allowing her a place at court."

Edward nodded, himself ready to return to the festivities.

"Yes your Majesty, I am eternally grateful."

He dismissed them and Mary, along with her husband, lead Margaret to their rooms. On the way there Margaret stopped, turning back towards Henry, apprehension evident in her face.

"Oh I was an absolute simpleton." she shook her head "They must have thought me a country bumpkin!"

Mary laughed and lead the girl into their rooms. It would take time, but she would come into her own at court. Either that or she would be an outcast in the glamorous world of Edward VI. Mary was sure she would be fine...hopefully.


	2. Chapter 2

**KINGS AND PAWNS  
**_Chapter II_

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_October 13th, 1555_

**HAMPTON COURT PALACE, ENGLAND**

_**A**_s the morning sun flooded the small bedchamber Margaret threw the covers over her head, her long legs tucked closely to her. She'd heard the maids come in earlier, putting out the embers in the hearth, filling up the washing bowel with water. She could smell food too now, bread of some sort, and butter. With a smile she snuggled deeper into the goose down pillows. This was nothing like Croxden where mornings consisted of waking at the crack of dawn and helping her Aunt to serve the morning meal. She was sure it must be past seven, a luxury she had never before experienced.

"Come, my little layabout!" the bright, pretty voice of her sister in law echoed through the room "Up! Up or I shall douse you with your own bathwater!"

Margaret laughed and lifted up, her shift bunching up at her shoulders. She looked about. The beauty of the chamber the night before had been nothing compared to how it looked in the morning's bright light. Tapestries covered the walls, silk covered the bed and the floor had thick, warm rugs with beautiful biblical scenes sown into them. A little door lead out into Mary and Henry's chambers while a small curtain hid a copper chamber pot in the corner. Margaret stood, her smile bright and she felt refreshed.

"Oh Mary! I shall never become accustomed to this place!"

She fell back into the covers and sighed, her happiness evident. The country was long past, she was sure that court was where she belonged. Mary rolled her eyes and huffed, grabbing her younger sister in law's arm and tugging her upwards. Margaret laughed and stood, her laughter ringing in the small room. Mary turned towards a chair near the fireplace, where something blue hung over the back. Mary Dudley was a true beauty. Her dark hair and big brown eyes were trademarks of her family, and her figure was any man's dream in a wife. Margaret could see why Henry was so enamored by her. She wore a beautiful olive green dress of silk and lace with pearl sown sleeves. The bodice was strewn with seed pearls and a few emeralds. Very expensive, Margaret mused.

"Hush! You must eat and wash and dress, it is but an hour until Matins."

Mary picked up the dress as two serving women rushed in, straightening the bed up and placing the bread and butter on a plate they busied themselves about the chamber. One took the pot from the corner and another woman came in, taking her place. Mary gestures towards the food and Margaret gladly helped herself. As she chewed on the freshly baked bread and sipped on spiced wine, Mary began setting out combs and laid the delicate dark blue dress. Margaret took a final bite and shook her head, her eyes widening.

"That is not one of my gowns!"

"Of course not!" Mary laughed "It is one of mine, I had my tailor tend to it. It should fit you well."

Margaret looked at her own trunks and Mary shook her head, clicking her tongue at the girl.

"But Mary I have my own gowns! Surely-"

"Surely not! Margaret, my dear, I assure you you will have your own dresses, but for now you must trust my judgment."

Mary winked.

"Anne! Lydia! Come, dress the Lady Margaret. Plate her hair as well and use the blue paste jewels."

Margaret was suddenly being assaulted. One of the serving women threw her night shift over her shoulders and another slid a clean white one over her. Then came the corset, which was sown so tightly Margaret had to lean over to even catch her breath. Mary had Lydia loosen it. They slid the farthinggale over her hips, and finally came the dress. The material was beautiful and Margaret ran her hands over it, marveling at the luxurious fabric.

"Yes, just as I thought. My dear, you're simply stunning."

Margaret looked down at herself, her toes peeping out from the many skirts of the dress. Anne slid a pair of slippers on her feet while Lydia began combing through her curly mass of hair. Mary turned, her skirts swishing as she did so. Margaret looked up.

"Where are you going sister?"

Mary opened the door and turned back, smile soft.

"Only to my Lord Husband's aid. He can never quite fit his doublet correctly, and he loathes valets."

She paused, looking out the door.

"When you finish, we shall go to the Chapel where the whole court can see your new finery."

Mary nodded towards the serving women who continued helping Margaret with her hair. Anne suggested powder and a pink stain for her lips, but Margaret wanted nothing of it. The new dress and the way her hair was tightly braided were already strange enough. And the French hood, studded with pearls and blue jewels was heavy enough to worry her. What if she lost balance and it fell off? The horror of the idea made her cringe. But she didn't have time to worry because as soon as the women were finished she knew she had to make her way to the chapel. When she entered her Brother's chamber his eyes flew open and he was momentarily speechless.

"Madge?" he asked, raising an eyebrow "That cannot be my wild, country bumpkin sister! Can it? Surely not!"

Mary winked and Margaret gave a little spin. She felt much better equipped to meet the court in the new dress. Her old gowns may have been safe and familiar, but one did not enter the court of a King dressed in hand me down clothes. She would simply have to become...accustomed. As they entered the hall, heading towards the Chapel, she felt a flutter of anticipation. This would be her official entrance at court and now that the awe had worn off (almost) the fear of all those eyes on her for the first time made her weak in the knees. She took a deep breath, tightening her grip on Henry's arm. He laughed and patted her back.

"Now now sweetling. Do not fear, they will love you as I do."

He smiled down at her, his eyes reminding her of their Mother. Taking a deep breath she nodded. The doors swung open. The pews were all filled and the only empty seats were up near the front. Mary headed there instinctively. Elizabeth and her ladies were there, and Mary seemed very familiar with them. Henry, still holding his sister's arm, lead her down the aisle. He introduced her as the Lady Margaret Sidney of Croxden. Everyone recognized the country name and a few seemed less than enthused at this newcomer's pedigree. But Henry was one of the King's favorites and his sister would surely be one as well. Margaret was unable to detect some of the falseness of the court, and she assumed that everyone was simply welcoming and kind. The introductions were a bit confusing with so many new names and faces. So when they were done with the endless string of curtseys and bows and introductions. Finally as they neared their pew, Margaret turned, surveying the chapel.

Without thinking she turned towards the back of the chapel and up at the raised area there, a balcony of sorts. Suddenly she noticed the face of the King staring down at her, a half smile on his handsome features. Margaret started, turning towards the pulpit, her heartbeat racing. Edward's Chaplin took his place in front of the congregation and began his service. Looking down at her Book of Common Prayer, Margaret couldn't focus on the sermon. She could feel a burning on the back of her neck and she was sure that the King's eyes stayed on her for most of the message. As Matins ended and the final prayer came to a close she took a deep breath, already repenting for her horrible behavior. Never had she been so sinfully preoccupied. Shaking her head she stared down at the floor, feelign vain and silly. Why would the King of England take a second glance at a simple country girl when he was surrounded by elegant, beautiful ladies.

"He _would not._" she whispered to herself blushing.

"Who would not Lady Margaret?"

Madge jumped, looking back at the voice that had interrupted her musings. It was the Lady Elizabeth! She turned and did a deep curtsey. Mary and four other ladies were with her. She recognized one as the Lady Jane Grey and another as the Lady Catherine Dudley, Mary's younger sister. Eleanor Neville, whom Henry had introduced Margaret to earlier, smiled sweetly at her as well. The older woman was unknown to Margaret, but she guessed it was Kat Ashley, the Lady Elizabeth's nurse from childhood.

"No one My Lady." she shook her head and gave a little chuckle "It was a silly daydream."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, not believing the girl but thankfully she shrugged it off. Putting a hand on Margaret's shoulder she turned towards the door. Many courtiers had already left the chapel. Margaret risked one more glance upward and was relieved to see no one left in the King's box. As Elizabeth lead her out amongst her ladies she spoke to one courtier or another, her graceful walk and pretty smile causing many to look her way. One especially, was a handsome young man who stood near the Duke of Norththumberland and his sons. Catherine laughed and whispered in Elizabeth's ear, close enough so Margaret could hear it.

"My, Lord Robert is looking rather splendid this morn, isn't he my Lady?"

Elizabeth gave the Lady Dudley a playful withering stare but nodded towards her brother and Robert smiled from ear to ear, his eager face reminding Margaret of a boy. She couldn't help but smile. The vibrant lively court of the young King seemed crackling with activity, bursting at the seams with secrets and stories. She felt a thrill up her spine.

"Where is the Lady Mary, my Lady?" Margaret asked, looking around for the King's dour eldest sister. Elizabeth laughed, startling the girl.

"Oh the Lady Mary enjoys a private ceremony in her own chambers." the ladies all giggled "Of course, we all know that she simply cannot bring herself to hear her Masses in English."

Margaret was confused for a moment. King Edward had decreed that all English services be in their country's own tongue, the Catholic practice of Latin mass had been outlawed. That meant that if Lady Mary was hearing them in Latin then she was breaking her own brother (the King's) law. Her eyes widened, and she turned around. Before she could question them the ladies burst into laughter. Eleanor waved a gloved hand.

"Margaret do not look so troubled. You have much to learn of King Edward's court!"

She shook her head as they walked towards the gardens. Eleanor was right. Margaret put a smile on her face, masking the confusion and the questions. She swore to herself that she would learn as much about court life as possible, and quickly.

* * *

"_**A**_nd your Latin? You have kept up with it? And your other studies?"

A cool breeze wafted by, and Margaret wrapped her cloak tighter around her. The sky was a dull gray and she suspected a drizzle would soon follow the chilly breeze. Turning to her brother she smiled, shaking a curl from her face.

"Of course Henry. All of Elizabeth's ladies are well read and I assure you I am kept as sharp as a whip." she lifted her skirts over a little puddle by the rose bushes and nodded towards a bench "May we sit Brother? I am weary."

Henry eyed her, his mouth tight with worry. She was tired because she'd stayed up all night dancing and merrymaking with the Lady Elizabeth and the rest of the court. It had only been a week since the young Madge had been brought to court, an innocent wide eyed maiden. Now it seemed that her homespun dresses and simple ways had disappeared. She was transforming into a courtier, just as their mother had always feared for her youngest girl.

"Please don't look at me that way Henry!" she hissed, looking down at her hands "I was only having a bit of fun. You act as if I have become the court strumpet!"

He blushed and shook his head, one hand on his knee, the other tapping on the bench.

"No, no Madge I know you are a good girl. It is only..."

She looked up at him, feeling as if she had disappointed him. But she didn't understand why. She had made friends in court already, earning a place in the elite circle of Elizabeth and her ladies! She was learning etiquette and how to carry herself. She was learning who was who and what their secrets were. She was learning quickly how to survive at court. Why was her brother so upset? Margaret had thought that was what he wanted.

"It is only, I fear loosing my young sister, I mourn the child you once were."

He smiled gently at her and she put a hand over his.

"You sound like father."

Her voice caught with sadness and for a moment they shared the painful grief of their parents loss. But Henry shook his head, the half smile returning as he stood, offering her his arm. She accepted and as they continued their walk, another breeze shook the branches around them.

"Mary tells me you are doing very well Madge. The Lady Elizabeth is quite fond of you."

Margaret smiled and nodded. Elizabeth had become a friend, along with Catherine, Jane and Eleanor. Even Kat Ashley and Lady Catherine Knollys (Elizabeth's older ladies in waiting) were delightful company.

"And I of her."

He smiled again and they turned towards the palace.

"You have many, admirers here at court sister." he looked at her questioningly "Did you know? Many speak quite highly of you. You are doing as well as I had hoped."

Margaret shrugged and blushed. She was happy to have found such an easy place at court. It was wonderful to have fit in so well. As they neared a door to the courtyard, they spoke of the past. Of holidays and memories and their three sisters. Lucy, Francis and Anne were all married and spent much time away from court, but they would soon visit and all of their family would be together again. Almost all of their family. In the middle of their musings a deep, robust voice cut through the stillness of the garden.

"Sir Sidney! Henry, you knave!"

It was the voice of the King, who was now strolling confidently towards the two. Behind him a middle aged man in a black robe followed, a bible in the crook of his right arm. He was familiar to Margaret and she recognized him as Edmund Grindal, King Edward's Chaplain. He had a stern face and dark, piercing eyes. He was known as a fervent Protestant and a holy, pious man. Margaret curtseyed quickly, her eyes staying close to the ground as she felt a small trill of fear. The King always made her nervous, and his Chaplain even more so. Henry bowed and smiled, as Edward reached him and embraced him warmly, like brothers. It was hard for Margaret to remember that Henry had grown up with Edward and they were quite close.

"Your Majesty!" Henry's grin was genuine and excited "You remember my sister, the Lady Margaret?"

Edward turned, his gray eyes spotting her. He was fair skinned, rather tall and muscular. He had a mane of golden red hair, a mix of his mother and father. Once, he had been a sickly child but he had past his weak youth and was now strong and on the verge of manhood. Any woman would have found him intriguing, the picture of a handsome young King. Margaret did, but she was also incredibly intimidated by him. Spending her whole life in the country hadn't prepared her for meetings with Kings.

"How could I forget?" he stepped forward, taking her hand "I do hope you have found our court to your liking Madame?"

Margaret nodded, stammering. Her first meeting with the King she had been bolstered by excitement and joy. She tried to recapture that spirit as she spoke, her mile growing.

"If I said I was not, I would truly be committing a sin." she laughed softly "And I make a habit not to lie in front of Holy men."

Edward laughed too, and even Grindal cracked a small smile. The King was watching Henry intently and Margaret decided to take her leave. She knew when men wanted to speak, and most of the time their ladies were not intended to join in the conversation. She curtsied again.

"Your Majesty." she turned to Edward and then to the Chaplain "Lord Grindal."

Finally she smiled at Henry and nodded towards the door.

"Brother, I promised Mary that I would join her after I had spoken with you. Excuse me."

She walked backwards until she was out of sight, never turning her back on the King before scurrying out of sight, relieved to have survived her encounter. As her figure disappeared behind the walls of the palace Edward laughed and patted Henry on the back.

"A fine girl your sister. She has taken to court well, has she not?"

The three men began walking.

"Why yes Your Majesty. It seems that our sisters have taken to each other quite well."

Edward laughed, his voice echoing in the cool air.

"Yes, but your darling Margaret seems much more agreeable than either of my sainted ones. Mary refuses to see reason when it comes to her heretic papacy. And Elizabeth is as stubbourn as ever. She has as many suitors as there are stars, and yet she refuses to even entertain the thought of marriage." he sighed "I've let both of them roam free for far too long. Both will have to submit to my will, and soon."

Henry watched his old friend and noticed the look of sadness in his eyes. He had always wished for the family that he couldn't have, and these squabbles with the women who were supposed to be his closest kin cut him deeply. Henry crossed his arms, wondering about Margaret's inevitable marriage.

"Madge is so young, I do not know if I shall have her married off yet."

Edmund Grindal clucked his tongue and looked at the young Sir Sidney. Henry turned, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Do you disagree my Lord?"

Grindal shook his head.

"My dear boy, many a woman would have already been married and mothered by her age. It is sentiment that stops you from choosing a righteous match for the girl. It is better to have women wed, as their sinful natures will rear sooner rather than later."

Henry's eyes narrowed, but Edward sensed the tension and put his hands up.

"Permit a brother time to fret." Edward joked "She IS still young my dear Grindal."

The older man shrugged and opened his bible. Edward and Henry walked ahead, speaking of this and that and laughing. Their friendship was one of the easy things at court and both men took comfort in the ease that they found with each other. But after a span Henry took his leave, and Grindal walked back to Edward's side.

"What did you think of the girl Edmund?"

The Chaplain stood silent for a moment and Edward turned, looking at his face expectantly.

"It would need further study your Majesty, but she had an honest face."

Edward smiled, agreeing wholeheartedly...


	3. Chapter 3

**KINGS AND PAWNS  
**_Chapter III_

* * *

_October 22nd, 1555_

**HAMPTON COURT PALACE, ENGLAND**

"**A**nd the little strumpet was gallivanting about as if the entire court was her audience." the older woman shook her head, her fingers pulling and shaping the embroidery in front of her "The Lady Elizabeth is truly a disgrace, Your Majesty."

Anne Bassett had been with the Princess Mary for as long as she had been a courtier and she still called her by her official title. Most of Mary's ladies still called her Princess, as they never truly accepted the bastardization of their mistress. Elizabeth on the other hand, was still only referenced as a Lady, because it was common knowledge that the whore Anne Boleyn had cuckolded King Henry and placed a bastard daughter in the royal nursery. Well, at least everyone in Mary's retinue swore to that fact.

"Pray for her my dear Anne."

Mary, who had been kneeling at her bedside when the conversation began stood and joined her ladies. At thirty nine she was an old maid, unmarried and untouched. Her sallow skin and dull brown hair made for a mousy, strange appearance. While her sister was vibrant and enchanting, Mary was no such beauty. Though in her youth she had been rather handsome, that distant past was only a dream. She wore dowdy, black gowns and shunned most of the court revelries, along with the courtiers themselves. Only a select few (many of whom were suspected to be secret papists) were kept in her inner circle. They all believed that some day their loyalty would prove beneficial.

"You are much too gracious and forgiving Your Highness."

Mary smiled, sitting in the chair at the head of the room, it was almost like a throne.

"As the Lord commands me, and you, to be."

Anne shut her mouth, turning towards Jane Dormer and Magdalen Dacre, Princess Mary's two maids of honor.

"Where is Lady Catherine?" she asked, ignoring Mary's rebuke. She made no secret of her disdain for the Lady Elizabeth.

"She went to fetch more wine Madame." Jane said with her simpering smile "The lazy serving woman seems intent on forcing us to slave away ourselves."

Jane Dormer was a spoiled, bratty girl accustomed to cruelty. But she was one of Mary's favorites and seemed able to get away with anything. She stuck her nose up in the air and huffed, before turning back to the small prayer book in her hands. Magdalen gave her a small look and shook her head, staring out the window. The truth was that Mary made sure that no unwanted servants made their way into her chambers. No musicians, no jesters and only a few trusted maids. If they were at Beaulieu or Framlingham then the court was much merrier, but under King Edward's watchful eye they kept a very low profile and Jane was always in a sour mood because of it.

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening brought Magdalen from her musings. It must have been Catherine.

"Why Lady Brydges you seem to enjoy keeping us all-"

Anne gasped and dropped her embroidery when she saw the unfamiliar face peek from behind the open door. Jane and Magdalen looked about for anything from their earlier secret mass and were relieved to see no evidence. Lady Bassett, on the other hand, was puffed up like a bullfrog.

"Your Ladyship." Margaret Sidney entered and curtsied "I have come-"

"You have intruded!" Anne was incensed to see one of the Lady Elizabeth's close confidantes in her Mistress's room. "How dare you?"

For a moment the girl looked frightened, her face pale and her eyes wide. But after a moment she squared her shoulders and turned towards the Lady Mary, ignoring the other woman. She smiled sweetly, a genuine look of affection on her face.

"Forgive me Lady Mary, there was no one to announce me and your sister tells me it is of great importance to deliver this to you."

She held out a letter, her head bowed in respect. Mary leaned forward, taking the letter and eying it. It was still sealed, the girl was trustworthy. She looked up, appraising Margaret for a moment before leaning back in her chair.

"Why did she not send one of her maids?" Mary asked softly "Why send the Lady Sidney?"

Margaret stepped closer, her voice softer.

"She cannot trust many of her serving women, and this letter was for your eyes only." she nodded to Mary's hand "My Lady."

For a moment there was silence, and then the door opened. This time it was Catherine. She had fetched a serving woman who had brought spiced Spanish wine for the Lady Mary's table. She looked as shock at the new guest as Lady Bassett but she smiled. She was fond of the Lady Margaret, who reminded her of Henry, whom she had once fancied herself smitten with.

"How is my sister?" Mary asked Margaret.

"She told me to tell you that she misses your company, my Lady."

Mary smiled and patted Margaret on the hand before turning towards the windows.

"Tell her she may visit me whenever she chooses, and that my prayers are with her." she looked back at the young girl "Thank you, Margaret."

Madge smiled and curtsied again. She turned, smiling at the ladies before taking her leave. As she shut the door she let out a deep breath. Meeting Elizabeth's sister had been yet another court hurdle she'd crossed with a heavy heart. But she'd done it. Turning, she rushed down the hall wondering what was in the letter. As she neared the courtyard she felt a cool breeze and watched for a moment as the sun began setting. It was a beautiful sight, and Hampton Court Palace was a perfect backdrop. Wrapping her arms around herself she smiled. It was nice to find simple beauty in such a complicated place. But suddenly, she saw a streak flash through one of the corridors in the courtyard. It was a youth, his blonde hair flying back behind him as he raced past. Margaret suddenly felt a curiosity rise in her and she walked quickly the way he had gone.

She could see the place where he'd bent back some bushes on his way and she followed his path, seeing his form in the distance. Behind her, towards the kitchens she could hear yelling and a loud commotion. As she neared the end of the gardens she realized she was out by the stables, near the servants quarters. She stopped, wondering where her mystery youth had gone. Finally she spotted the mane of wild blonde hair and rushed over. He was leaning down, one hand ruffling a young blonde boy's hair. The boy had a dirty face and was leaning on a knobby stick that he seems to be a makeshift crutch.

"What's this Paul?" his voice is quiet and Margaret's heart goes out to him "A sweet meat!"

He jumps, his face excited as he hastily begins to eat his new treat, with the sweet staining his face he stops and looks at the older boy.

"Ya stole this for me! Paul, they'll surely whip you!"

The blonde youth smiled and grabbed the boy, holding him in his arms.

"Not so young Master Stephen." he said, his voice deep and melodic "They never even saw me, I'm much too fast for those old fat cooks."

Stephen laughed and ate the rest of his sweetmeat as a man walked out from the stables. He brushed his hands on his breeches and smiled at the sight of the two boys. He patted Paul on the back and kissed the other boy on the cheek. Wiping a finger over his lips he frowned.

"Again?" he said softly, anger coloring his tone "Would you have us turned out? Homeless/ Begging on the streets of London?"

Paul shook his head, looking at the ground in shame.

"He was hungry father."

'I can provide for my own sons Paul!" he hissed, looking about "You could have been whipped, or worse!"

"No one saw me!"

"Paul you are a foolish-"

Margaret nearly fell and the bushes around her shook. She balked as all three turned towards her and then she took off, her first instinct to run from their eyes. She could hear heavy footsteps behind her as she broke through the shrubbery, into a distant unkept part of the garden. With panic in her heart she turned, planning to flee through the greenery until she found her way out, but suddenly a rough hand was wrapped around her arm.

"Ow!"

No answer, she spun around and found her captor. Paul stared back at her, his chest heaving. His blonde hair fell down over his face and the piercing sky blue eyes watched her curiously.

"A little court spy huh?"

She struggled in his grip, still transfixed by his gaze. He smiled, as if he was used to maiden's swooning at the sight of him. Margaret stiffened her chin and pulled again, he didn't release her.

"Unhand me thief!" she hissed, her eyes narrowing. He laughed and she tugged again. Finally he let go and the force caused her to fail into the dirt.

"Yes, my Lady." he sneered.

His face was cold now, no longer jovial. She felt a trill of fear, and then anger filled her being. She lifted herself up as the boy watched. His clothes were dirty and old, she guessed he was a servant. She had felt pity for him and his family before but now her hurt pride screamed for revenge.

"I'll see you flogged for this you peasant filth!" she began dusting herself off and turned to leave, unwanted tears streaming down her face. He had forced her to say a horrible thing and now the guilt she felt fueled her anger.

He grabbed her shoulder again, turning her roughly again and she let out a shocked breath.

'Who are you to issue threats? Some haughty ladies maid?"

His eyes were ice cold and cruel. She spat on the ground near his feet, the tears streaming wildly now.

"Leave me be you horrid cur!"

"My, you insult well for a Lady of the court!"

"What gives you the right to handle me so? To speak to me so?!"

"Who are you to spy on my family? To sentence us to a life on the streets?"

"Do not blame me for your thievery Sir!" she said stonily "It is you who have sentenced your family."

He ran a hand through his hair, his exasperation and anger evident. She was so bewildered, no one had ever treated her that way, especially not at court. He was a brash, bold, strong willed youth, but he was still a servant who had over stepped his bounds. Though only months before she would have been able to befriend him and relate to him, now she was talking to him like scum. No matter what he'd done, she realized she shouldn't have belittled him the way she had. But it was too late and she was a proud girl, her had wounded her ego too much for her conscience to make her back down. But she knew she would not report him, she couldn't.

"You highborn are all the same! You would persecute me for feeding a hungry boy, when we have little and you have much?"

His hands were spread wide and his eyes were pleading. She dusted more off of her skirt and shook her head, anger still warm in her face and chest.

"Sir you are a stupid, inconsiderate savage but I had no intention of saying anything to anyone." she said softly, fisting a tear from her face "If you had not handled me so roughly I would never have said such horrid things to you. You forced my hand."

Margaret looked at him, her eyes steely. He watched her for a moment, gauging her reaction. Then after a tense moment he threw his hands up, a smile on his handsome features.

"A simple misunderstanding then!" he said in a booming voice "I am Paul Bingham, at your service milady."

She looked at him in disbelief, unable to believe that he could change his tune so abruptly. Margaret scoffed and turned, holding her skirts up and making her way back through the gardens. She shook her head, mumbling under her breath as anger and humiliation ate away at her. She expected to hear him following her but after a moment she looked back, and he wasn't. For some unknown reason her anger grew. Jutting her chin out she soldiered on, confusion and ire guiding her steps. In the distance Paul watched her, an intrigued smile on his face.

* * *

_**T**_he entire court was bustling with activity as Margaret exited the palace, pulling her gloves on. Jane Grey had her nose in a book, ignoring the commotion but Eleanor and Catherine were all a twitter. The court was moving from Hampton to Westminster and they were imagining all the new rooms, gowns, balls and adventures they would have. Elizabeth was walking arm in arm with Lady Catherine Knollys and was turned around, laughing at something Kat Ashley had said.

"Margaret your hair!" Mary was behind her and she pulled a little curl behind her sister-in-law's ear "You're already falling apart! What am I to do with you?"

Madge playfully sneered at Mary who smiled coyly and headed over to Henry, who was chatting with Robert Dudley and his brother John. Margaret turned and gave one last look at Hampton, a melancholy feeling settling over her. She wondered where the yellow haired serving boy was now.

"Where is the litter?" she asked absent absentmindedly as they neared the long caravan of courtiers. The other girls laugh.

"Elizabeth hates them!" Catherine Dudley smiled "We ride horseback, its positively scandalous!"

Margaret turned, unable to hide her excitement.

"Truly?"

Catherine winked and nodded forward. Margaret looked. A group of five mares stood, looking magnificent. She looked about and saw Mary entering a litter as Henry waved to her from his own stallion. The Ladies Ashley and Knollys entered with her.

"We are the only five brave enough to mount them." the Lady Elizabeth patted her back "Come now, the black ones yours Madge."

Margaret was ecstatic. She hadn't ridden a horse since coming to court and she had missed it terribly. Out in the country it had been a daily occurrence for her to ride, but here it was hard for a Lady of the court to find a decent time to straddle a horse. In fact, they never did, instead they sat side saddle and only on rare occasions. When they reached the steeds she put a hand to the mare's neck and felt the horse move anxiously beneath her hand. She put one hand on the reins and watched as valets helped the other ladies onto the horses. When she felt a hand on her back she allowed him to assist her and when she was saddled she looked down to thank him. Madge nearly fell from her horse.

"Your majesty!" she stammered "My lord you-"

He smiled up at her, his eyes dancing. She was struck again at how such an elegant man could look so handsome. With a blush she felt the need to dismount and curtsey, but she wasn't sure how to handle this situation. No one had told her of what court etiquette dictated when the King of the realm helped one into the saddle.

"A simple thank you would be in order, Lady Margaret." he teased.

"Thank you Your Majesty!"

He signaled to another man and he brought Edward a horse, a great gray war stallion that the King mounted on his own with ease. He gave the horse a small kick and the rest of the courtiers began their journey. Margaret gave her own mare a gentle prod and the beats moved. Edward stayed steady beside her and she found herself looking at the ground, her heart beating wildly.

"Do you ride much Lady Sidney?" he asked, looking forward, and then gazing back at her. He rode the horse with a grace she could only dream of.

"Everyday." she said with a fond smile, but then she frowned "Well, before I came to court Your Majesty."

He nodded.

"And you enjoy it?"

"Very much."

"I am quite fond of it myself."

"I have heard that Your Majesty is fond of many outdoor activities." she looked at him and then quickly looked away "That is commendable."

He eyes her quickly and nodded.

"It keeps me strong." he smiled weakly "My father always kept me inside, he was so worried for my health, but it better for me to exercise, to be active."

She balked at the mention of his father, but quickly regained her composure.

"My Father always said that the Lord and a good days work kept him young." she shared.

"Your father was a wise man."

He laughed, and she did too. He looked forward and saw Dudley waving for him. Giving her one last glance he spurred his horse on an galloped away, leaving Madge flustered and confused. Behind her, Elizabeth began laughing.

"How sweet!" she called out "Madge, you've charmed the King thoroughly!"

All the girls laughed and Margaret blushed, but the sound of galloping made them all stop. Robert Dudley and her brother were rushing forward to the King's side and Dudley turned back, blowing a playful kiss at Elizabeth. She stopped and her own blush filled her cheeks.

"I suppose I am not the only charmer Your Majesty!"

The girls laughed again and then all sped up, excited to get to the new palace. Margaret was excited to see more of London and to start fresh at a new place. She felt her head swirl, and grabbed her reigns tighter. Falling from her horse would be yet another embarrassment, and she'd had enough for the rest of her life.


	4. Chapter 4

**KINGS AND PAWNS  
**_Chapter IV_

* * *

_October 30th, 1555_

**WHITEHALL PALACE, LONDON**

"And so, the entire hunting party watched as the King took his shot." Henry laughed and pulled an imaginary bow with a wide eyed fervor "The stag had no recourse but to die, I'm afraid. It was a wondrous aim our Edward had."

Mary laughed and wiped her mouth, pushing her plate away. The harpist played on gently and Margaret took another bite of her roast venison. Henry and many of King Edward's young Lords had come back from a three day long hunt only that morning and all her brother had been capable of talking about was the excursion. Henry sighed, sounding contented. Madge was happy to have Henry home, and she could see from the smile on her sister-in-law's face that Mary was as well.

"Prey tell me dear brother, did the King and the hart sign a treaty regarding his death?" she said leaning forward "For I've never heard of a prize stag surrendering so graciously."

She laughed lightly, but neither Mary nor Henry joined her. Looking up, she found them watching her, both of their eyes wide. Henry looked shocked, and angry. Madge pursed her lips, confused. Even the harpist stopped momentarily, before resuming his playing. Mary pressed a hand to her heart. Henry looked her in the eyes, his tone indignant.

"You would do well not to speak of His Majesty in such a way sister."

Margaret scoffed.

"It was only in jest! Surely there is no cause to-"

"Jest or no, use your mind before speaking so Margaret. It is dangerous and foolish to make remarks of that nature at court!"

She shook her head, feeling her own anger rise.

"You speak of our King as if he were a half mad tyrant! Surely he is not so vain as to outlaw jests of his hunting prowess!"

"Do not raise your voice at me girl!" he bellowed, standing now. Margaret stared up at him, her chin set "Mother may have coddled you but I am the head of this family and you will do as I say, without question."

She stopped herself from scoffing again and felt resentment building in her chest. She and Henry had never come to blows about her role in the world, as she had heard many other maidens argue with their Fathers, Husbands and Brothers over. She had thought Henry above such brutish tactics. But as he stood above her, more overlord than brother, she knew her defiant nature and his newly found authority would never see eye to eye.

"As you wish my Lord." she said coldly, bowing her head to him.

All of Henry's bluster disappeared then. He had never taken his willful sister in hand before, but he didn't like the feeling that came with doing so. She was young, headstrong, and had grown up freer than most women. In time she would learn her role, her station, but his impatience with her had grown lately. A maiden running wild at court was a stain on his name, on his man hood. He sighed and sat, trying to find words to make her understand. She did not meet his gaze. Before he could speak, Mary's voice interrupted the agonizing silence.

"Please, beloved, do not quarrel." she nearly spoke at a whisper "I have joyous news, and I hate seeing you badger each other so."

Margaret looked up at Mary and saw tears in her eyes. Mary Dudley had lived in a family where quarreling and bickering were an everyday occurrence. She hated strife within a family, especially between two whose bonds were as strong as Margaret and Henry's. Margaret knew this and felt a pang of guilt. Henry's temper had seemed to cool and he watched her, his face stoic.

"My dear Husband, darling Margaret."

They waited, in hushed silence.

"I am with child."

In a moment the tone of the room changed completely. Margaret and Henry locked eyes and then both looked back at Mary. Henry jumped up once again, but for excitement's sake instead of anger. Margaret stood too, wrapping her arms around the delicate woman.

"Oh sister!" she cried "Another baby? What wonderful tidings!"

Henry watched the women warmly and as Madge released his wife her took her face in his hands and kissed both of her cheeks, then her forehead. The joy on his face made them both giddy and Margaret clapped her hands.

"What news! What news!" she stopped "Oh Mary you-"

"What news daughter?" a deep voice interrupted.

All three turned to face the Duke of Northumberland, who stood in the doorway in all his splendor. A rich ermine fur was at his neck and pricey jewels hung at his throat and on his fingers. The Dudley's were a wealthy, powerful family and John Dudley was its figure head. The former Lord Protector and Privy Councilor stared at his daughter and her husband, a suspicious look in his eye. Any news he was not entitled to hear seemed worrisome to him. Margaret felt a shiver touch her spine. She didn't like the man, his sharp eyes never missed anything and he was a force to be reckoned with at court.

"Father, I..." Mary sounded flustered, and she looked more the little girl than the married mother-to-be. Margaret couldn't help smiling. "What brings you to..."

She couldn't finish her sentence. Looking to Henry for assistance, she looked helpless. Henry put a hand on her back, a warm smile on his face.

"Your Grace, Mary is again with child."

He spoke simply, and Dudley (after a moment of silence) broke into his own smile. Clapping his bejeweled hands together he stepped forward, embracing Henry before kissing his daughter on the forehead. Margaret had edged toward the door, feeling out of place as the Duke congratulated his children. He knew, as any powerful man should, that the relationship Henry had with the King was tied in with his daughter's and their children. Margaret could hear the ambition in every word he spoke. Standing at the edge of the room, she didn't even hear the door open as the King entered.

"My, my!" Edward's voice shocked everyone in the room as they looked up to find their sovereign standing unexpectedly on the threshold. Turning to Margaret, he flashed one of his dazzling smiles. She felt her knees shaking. "Lady Margaret, what joyous news have I stumbled upon?"

She paused, searching for words. Taking a steadying breath she met his gaze as she curtseyed deeply.

"You Majesty." she smiled genuinely "My sister is again with child."

Margaret blushed at the mention. Speaking to a man about pregnancy, well that wasn't something she'd even done before (especially when that man was the Lord of the realm) but he surprised her with a huge smile and a shout.

"My Lady, Sir Sidney," he bowed and then threw his hands up "Many glad tidings! I shall pray for the health of both of you."

He meant the mother and child. Margaret's hands were clasped in front of her and she felt her smile widening. Edward turned slightly, to look at her. She felt the quickening of her heart again, like a little bird fluttering about inside of her. Dudley was watching her intently, as was the rest of the room, but she couldn't pay attention to anything by the King's gray eyes. They sparkled dazzlingly in the afternoon sun.

"But I have come to have an audience with the Lady Margaret."

Madge swallowed.

"My Lady?"

His arm was outstretched, but her mind wasn't working. Neither were her feet. He wanted her to follow him, she could register that much. But why? Her whole body felt like jelly as she tried to force herself to move. Finally she did. Her arm slid into his and she stared at the ground, feeling uncertain. What in the world did he want with her? Behind her she could almost feel Henry's concern radiating from him. Taking a deep breath she allowed him to lead her from the room.

"I do hope you do not fault me for prying you from your family at such a time is this." he said gently as they walked along the corridor. Behind them, Edmund Grindal followed. Margaret thanked the Lord for the audience.

"No, no Your Majesty."

He smiled, looking out as they neared a long row of glass windows. He did not speak.

"Whitehall is beautiful, Your Majesty."

Her own voice was weak and she cursed herself for the sudden lack of bravery. This young King had that affect on her. He nodded, still not speaking. Finally he turned to face her and without warning released her arm.

"My father loved this palace. He spent his whole life transforming it into his own marvel." he sighed, meeting her eyes with sincerity "He married Anne Boleyn and my mother here."

She didn't know what to say. She'd never heard the King speak of his parents, of the late King Henry's marriages. It wasn't spoken of in front of him, that was simply court etiquette. She clasped her hands and studied the little golden ring on her index finger that Henry had given her.

"Was Queen Jane as beautiful as everyone says?" she asked softly "My Mother said she was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen."

That was true. Though Anne Sidney had been an attendant to Queen Catherine of Aragon, she had always claimed that Jane was the most beautiful and the one who had made the King happiest. Edward eyed her, looking for traces of flattery or deceit. Apparently he found none.

"More so, Lady Margaret."

The simple answer flooded his face with emotion. He would have never seen his mother, not in life anyway, but she knew that he would answer that way regardless. Sorrow touched her heart and she stifled a yearning to reach out to him.

"Your Majesty?"

"Yes."

"What have you to tell me?" she swallowed again "Would you have me leave court? My-"

His laughter startled her. She nearly jumped back at it. Grindal looked up, seemingly unperturbed, and then returned to his reading. Edward's eyes glistened with moisture and his smile was contagious. She found herself smiling, unsure of the reason.

"No! My dear Lady Margaret, I have come to ask you to accompany Matins in the morn." he laughed again "I would have you as a guest in the Royal box."

Her jaw nearly dropped. He was inviting her to worship with him. This King of England had invited Margaret Sidney to join him in morning chapel services. She nearly fell backward.

"Of...of course You Majesty. I-"

"Wonderful my Lady," he clapped his hands as Dudley had done earlier. Madge simply stared up at him. Taking her hand in his he gave it a slight squeeze, their eyes meeting again. "I shall escort you myself. Allow my Chaplain to accompany back to Sir Sidney's apartments."

He flashed one last knee shaking smile and was off, his lithe figure disappearing down the hall. The whole encounter had been so quick that she felt as if she must have dreamt it. Behind her, Grindal clucked his tongue. He was already walking away. Gathering her skirts she turned to catch up to him, her disbelief slowing her down like a weight.

She, Margaret Sidney, was accompanying the King to matins in the morning. She didn't know whether to be excited or nervous. This was something she would have to talk to Mary about as soon as they were alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**KINGS AND PAWNS  
**_Chapter XIV_

* * *

December 20th, 1555  
**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

"**S**peak plainly. Leave no room for doubt, Northumberland knows the wind is out of his sails but he's wound some of them up so desperately that they are afflicted still with the greatest doubts as to your involvement."

Elizabeth was no longer pale and anxious. Margaret had witnessed a transformation in her. Now as they stood in the neat office of the Secretary William Cecil, she stood straight backed and poised. Dressed in a demure gray and maroon dress, her hair hung down her back and her hands were placed on her lap. Kat and Margaret were dressed in simple matching white gowns. None of them wore jewelry. Simplicity, that was what Elizabeth had insisted on. Modesty, piety, submission. Margaret herself felt better. Being out of the tower and back inside the familiar palace had done wonders for her disposition. It didn't hurt that Cecil was married to Mildred Cooke either, a familiar face in a sea of unfamiliar men.

Mildred was a first cousin of Sir William Fitzwilliam, Margaret's Brother in law. William had married Anne, her older sister twelve years prior and they had five children together. Cecil was a stern, serious, learned man who had always seemed to have Elizabeth's best interest at heart. His wife was a woman Margaret looked up to, and who she enjoyed talking to whenever she could. Cecil knew this, and often gifted Madge with a rare smile. This morning, he had no smiles to spare.

"Have they any real suspects at this time?" Elizabeth was staring off at the wall, her mind in other places. "For if you're to be believed neither Mary nor I shall be charged with any crime."

Cecil sighed, shooting Elizabeth a familiar disdainful look. It was true, he disliked Dudley, he always had. But the man was powerful, even more so with the recent weakness the King had shown since the attempt on his life. He wanted power, to be the power behind the throne. Elizabeth and Mary were Edward's heirs until he had a child and the tyrant imagined them a threat to his rule. Cecil had deigned the quick marriage of his son to the Grey girl was a blatant power grab. She had legitimate ties to the Royal bloodline and was in line to inherit. He may not have been able to get Elizabeth and Mary beheaded this time, but tarnishing their images was still very, very possible.

"Correct my Lady. Neither you nor your sister will be charged or arrested. But what you also must understand is that you are to be banished from this court on Dudley's counsel to the King. I have heard it said both of you are to be sent away. You must speak your peace before you quit Greenwich all together."

Margaret watched as they talked. She was anxious to be free of all this. The first thing she would do is go to see Mary, and inevitably Henry. She would mend whatever rift had come between them and tell him her plan to leave court. Maybe not to Croxden, so far from Court but to install her in one of their other properties. Maybe Penhurst, where she would be farther from the chaos, if only for awhile. Somewhere she could be at peace, if but for a moment.

Cecil turned to her as she mused, his eyebrow cocked. He was not a handsome man, but he had a calm dignified air that made him all the more attractive. He was a Father himself and an avid statesman. He had only recently been elevated to Chancellor of the Order of the Garter but his star at court was said to be on the rise. He was the first person Elizabeth had requested to see upon her release from the Tower. He had been granted permission from the King to aide Elizabeth before her hearing. Mary was speaking to her own advisers as well, more proof that Edward had no real intention of sentencing them to anything harsher than banishment.

Margaret, however, was in no real danger and for that he was grateful. She was family by marriage to his wife and Mildred cherished her family. What his wife cherished, so did William and he was well aware of the girl's precarious position. Henry Sidney, a close friend of the King, was the girl's primary guardian and chances were if Edward the Sixth had his mind set to it she would be in his bed, as a wife or a mistress.

The opinion of most of his courtiers was that he would wed her. It had been romanticized. The Edward before him had his Elizabeth Woodville, and a commoner bride was no longer such a ludicrous notion. The girl had no land, no titles, and her dowry was in no way appropriate for a royal marriage. Of course those obstacles could be moved if the King so inclined. But with the advancements made by Dudley since the attack on the King, Edward's recent independent streak seemed to have been cut short. If Dudley didn't approve of the match, little Margaret stood no chance at getting a King for a bridegroom.

"Mistress Sidney and Mistress Ashby will enter with us. Afterward I've been instructed by your sister to take you to the Lady Fitzwilliam's home for supper."

Kat nodded and Margaret looked up, locking eyes with Elizabeth. The Princess nodded and looked down again at her long, elegant hands. Madge knew Elizabeth was frightened but fought not to show it. She would go and support her Lady, her friend. She would see the King for the first time since the night of Jane's wedding. Would he be angry with her? Would his fascination remain? All would be seen shortly.

They left Cecil's quarters and made their way to where the Magistrate had gathered in a hastily arranged hall of the Palace. Most of the court was about the Palace today, dressed in their finest as if they were attending a masque or a feast of some sort. As they neared the hall, they spotted Mary and _all_ of her ladies heading towards their direction. As they met, Mary and Elizabeth stopped and Elizabeth took Mary's arm in her own kneeling to her sister with dramatic flourish. Mary joined in, leaning down to kiss her younger sister on the forehead. Cecil cringed. Obviously the women were putting on quite the show and it seemed to have worked. All around them audible gasps and whispers could be heard.

Then they entered, Mary at the forefront Elizabeth right behind her. Inside, the rest of the court was excluded. Only a handful were Present, including the King. He sat in the midst of his Magistrate, his council presiding as well. Margaret spotted him immediately. He was leaned forward, his posture stiff and his eyes cold. He still looked majestic, dressed sumptuously and with the aura of a powerful man. The most powerful man in England at that, and unscathed by the attack on his life. Strong and capable, and somehow different. His brows were knit, his visage aged. He looked haunted, but he also looked determined.

Mary stood before the gathering body her head held high. Margaret kept turning from her to the King. Edward was watching his sister intently, his bejeweled fingers steepled in front of his face. As she gazed at him, his eyes caught hers and his bearing changed. His face softened, his eyes widened. Then he masked this sudden change with a frown, and returned to watching Mary.

The Magistrate made her swear upon a bible to answer the questions truthfully. Margaret saw Mary hesitate before she placed her hand on the English translated book, but she did touch the elaborate cover and she recited the Oath. They asked her questions, questions about Mary of Guise about the King of France, the Holy Roman Emperor and the Pope. They asked her about her faith and her masses and her allegiance to her brother. She answered them all perfectly, her head held high and her bearing regal. When they were finished, Mary fixed her brother with a powerful look and spoke.

"My Lords, I know not why I have been brought before your council this morning. I know only that whatever treason you have found out, know that it has not been done by my hand. My Father, King Henry the eighth of blessed memory dictated the succession of his Heirs and my brother, the sovereign King of all of England and the heirs of his body will reign in this realm. Tudors, as I am a Tudor and as our King is a Tudor. I am no traitor to that name. Never have I been and God curse the man who deigns that I ever would dare to be."

The room was silent. Beside Margaret Elizabeth tensed. She turned to look at her and saw her jaw set. Mary nodded toward Edward and made a sweeping curtsy. The King, still and silent, nodded slightly and without a word Mary was dismissed from the Hall. She and her ladies were lead out and Margaret only hoped that before she was taken to Beaulieu that she would get a chance to say her farewells. She genuinely had come to care for Mary, in the time that she had spent with the woman. Elizabeth was called before the stern men next. Margaret squeezed her hand and like a great Lady she granted Madge with a serene smile.

As she stood before her brother and his magistrate she looked radiant. The sun shown down through the high windows and illuminated her red gold hair, hair so much like her Father that it was almost impossible to deny the resemblance. Elizabeth's youth was a sharp contrast to Mary's thirty nine years. She was not asked about the French, or the Spanish or the Holy Roman Emperor. She was not involved in Catholic conspiracy or threat. It was known throughout the land that she was a good Protestant, like her Mother, and that she and Edward tended to always agree on matters of religion and theology.

Instead, they asked strange questions about her Howard relatives and other Lords of the realm. Had they conspired to replace her on her brother's throne? Had they planned a secret marriage behind the King's back? It was absolutely ridiculous. Elizabeth, who had become the belle of her brother's court hadn't been right under his nose committing treason. The men she was questioned about being connected with were all known enemies and rivals of John Dudley. Margaret gripped the arm of her wooden chair. Yet another show of Northumberland's power. What ludicrous ideas had he planted in Edward's head about his sister's? God only knew.

Elizabeth made Margaret proud. She answered all the questions with confidence and poise. But unlike Mary she made no show or speech. She kept her eyes averted and her stance humble. When she did speak, it was in hushed tones, barely audible to her audience.

"I leave the judgment of my innocence to the conscience of my King and his councilors. I only do wish that His Majesty would know the love and honor I owe him as my own flesh, and above all as my Sovereign."

Edward's face softened a bit more then it had with Mary, but still Elizabeth was lead out of the hall, her fate still a mystery. As Margaret stood to follow, Cecil put a hand on her shoulder and sat her back down. Elizabeth did not look back, but left arm in arm with Kat, her head held high. Margaret felt that same fear she had while waiting in the Tower. Soon the Magistrate had convened and all the men had left the hall as well. Watching the sun shine through the high windows she realized the room was now empty but for her and William.

"Sir-"

He held a hand out and shook his head slightly.

"Hush child. A moment more."

Then there was the audible sound of a door opening behind them. Margaret turned and instantly froze as Edward made his way towards where she was seated. Bursting up, she hurriedly curtsied, looking at the floor for much longer than was necessary. When she was upright again, he stood before her with his feet planted slightly apart and his hands clasped behind his back. Tall and stately as always, she could only see the stiffness of his shoulder now that he'd neared. His face was still slightly pale, and he looked just as stern and aged as he had while presiding over his sister's testimonies.

He didn't speak. Madge felt her cheeks flush with heat. As she went to speak he turned his head sharply towards William.

"Cecil, leave us, Mistress Sidney will be dismissed shortly. I've assured Henry you will have her escorted to Lord Fitzwilliam's manor in an expedient fashion."

His voice was cold, regal, untouchable. So unlike the Edward she'd spent those private meals with, or who she'd danced so close to, or who had professed his passion for her not so many moons ago. She felt her stomach knot as dread filled her. She had displeased this man, God's anointed and her rightful King.

"Your Majesty." what more could she say. Her eyes remained downcast and he took a step closer. The vastness of the hall of inconsequential. In this moment they were alone, in a very small space.

"We're you frightened?"

She let a slow breath out and nodded her head in assent. She wanted to tell him that she was even more so now. Gone was the carefree feeling the wine had produced the last time she'd been this close to him. That night the idea of being chosen by a King had seemed like the sweetest thrill. Now she felt as she did when he had first begun to show her notice. She was a small animal in the face of the hunter. He had all the power in the world and who was she in the scheme of things?

"Well speak up. They say it was brave, the way you followed her into the Tower on the day of your arrest. That your head was high and your countenance unperturbed."

Suddenly she was upset. Her fists tightened and fear began to face behind indignation. He was angry at her, but why? What had she done to deserve his scorn?

"Only to instill strength in my Lady Elizabeth sire."

"Do you believe her, that she had nothing to do with the attempt on my life?"

"I need not _believe_ her when I know truly that she played no hand in it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Faith Your Majesty, and the knowledge that she is your sister and a loyal subject."

He was silent again and began pacing, right in front of her, looking slightly less angry than before. A flicker of worry crossed his features and she felt herself soften. He was still a youth of eighteen, and only a few days before he had been facing his own mortality. It couldn't have helped that Dudley was doing everything he could to twist the King's fear to his advantage.

"There is no loyalty when it comes to a King's throne. Even if she had naught to do with it, she could someday be involved in any number of plots against me. She and Mary both."

"You truly fear them? Think that they wish you dead? You have ruled for eight goodly years without so much as a revolt or an uprising. Now that you face a threat you cannot let those who would wish to weaken you with fear cloud your judgment. Christ himself told us to have no fear."

Edward paused, looking at her for a slight moment, and then continued his repeated trek across the small bit of floor he was pacing on. She continued.

"My Father used to say that silver tongues will stir up troubles and truthful ones will soothe them."

He smiled. He could remember Sir Sidney telling him the same thing. But even louder was Dudley's voice of caution. Wolves in sheep's clothing, all looking to take what was rightfully his, to turn the country over to vice or sell them off to Rome. To overturn all of his Father's work and his wishes. Then again, had his fear truly clouded his judgment? He had recently decided he no longer needed to heed Dudley's guidance so closely. But who could he trust? Dudley had saved him from his voracious Uncle, from the threat to his rule the Seymours had represented.

"Do you speak the truth Margaret? Can I trust you truly? For I will trust you with my life if only you tell me that I may do so without fear."

"There is always fear when trusting oneself to another. What you must do, My Lord, is have faith. As I have in you."

Edward suddenly stopped and stepped forward. He wrapped his arms about her, locking her in a surprisingly tight embrace. Her face fit into the crook of his neck and she smelled his scent deeply. Clean and strong, she closed her eyes and for the first time she didn't think of anyone else. Not Paul or her Brother or Elizabeth or Mary. All she could feel was the arms of a man who had begun to lay his soul bare to her. He was vulnerable, in a time where being vulnerable could mean his death. She placed a hand on his cheek and felt a small bit of stubble. He closed his eyes and nuzzled closer to her. He sighed.

"I have made a grave mistake Mistress Margaret. I must pray and repent."

He stepped back and nodded his head briskly.

"Would it be impudent of me to assume you will join me for the Archbishop's sermon on the Sabbath?"

"Not at all Your Majesty, it would me an honor."

She curtsied and he gave her one last nod of approval before making his own way from the hall. She was left alone as the door slammed and suddenly she felt as if the huge place was too small. She couldn't breathe. Suddenly she launched forward into a run, needing to leave, needing to find Henry and to find peace. As she burst through the doors she nearly toppled, running smack dab into Sir Cecil who stumbled backward to the ground.

"Decorum Margaret! A lady would never be seen _running _in public, much less in the presence of a King."

"Edward is gone, he would not have seen-"

"His Majesty." he said in a warning tone "Never address his by his Christian name, girl. You're not his Bride yet, despite all the gossip. Come, we've got to get you dressed, we will be attending dinner at your sister's home if you haven't forgotten. They are all quite excited to see you. Even Mildred tore herself away from her books to see you. Let us depart."

As they left she mused on his words. Bride. To a King. That thought had occupied her thoughts so much recently. And Paul had sent her no word, or he'd been unable to. She had no idea if he would still feel the same, or if he ever really felt the same. What she did know is that second to her family, the stable hand Paul Bingham was the person she wanted to see most, after all that had happened.

What she didn't know, is if it was wise to feel that way. But her mind was already made out as she entered Sir Cecil's carriage. She'd see him as soon as she could. What else could she do? Even through all this, he still burned in her mind and she could not deny him.

Would not.


	6. Chapter 6

**KINGS AND PAWNS**  
_Chapter VI_

* * *

_November 19th, 1555  
_**WHITEHALL PALACE, ENGLAND**

"**_C_**lose the window my dears." Lady Knollys said softly as she entered the chamber "You'll all catch dreadful chills if not."

All of them looked up, their young voices silenced by the sudden intrusion of a chaperone. Jane and Catherine sat on a plush rug on the floor, while Mary and Elizabeth perched in comfortable chairs. Behind the red haired Princess, Margaret stood, plaiting the thick russet mane. Elizabeth nodded towards a serving girl in the corner, who hurried the close the window, quickly cutting off the bitter chill.

"Look! Tis' snowing!"

Jane stood behind the maid, who quickly ducked out of view as the girl placed a hand on the frosted window. The others followed suit, all except for Elizabeth who stayed seated.

"We shall be moving soon, I assume." Catherine said in her all-knowing-very-wise-courtier voice "To Greenwich, for Christmas."

"Joy." Jane said, flopping back down on the floor.

Madge shook her head, a sad smile on her face. Jane had become more and more sullen as the days passed. Her thoughts were less consumed by the nearing festivities and more by her impending marriage. Catherine looked away, her own features pained. It was becoming harder for her to endure her friend's bitterness. Guildford was, in fact, her baby brother.

"Oh think of the food!"

Everyone looked at Margaret and laughed, which had been her intention. The bickering between her friends was more than she could take.

"If you want to fit into any of those expensive dresses your brother bought you you'll think less about all that food." Mary said playfully "Or you'll end up like me."

She patted her growing belly and smiled, Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"I dread the day I'm forced to spend Advent with a babe in my belly."

Madge pulled gently at another strand of hair, enjoying how it shined by the light of the fire. Catherine shook her head.

"It will help that you'll be birthing Princes or Dukes milady." she pointed out "And not just another silly Sidney."

Madge threw a pillow at Catherine's head at that and stuck out her tongue.

"Better a silly Sidney than a dreadful Dudley!"

Laughter rose again and for a moment all seemed well with the world. Madge had long since decided to quit fretting about marriage and start enjoying the court life she had so luckily been introduced to. These girls were her friends, she had fine dresses and jewels and best of all she was favored by the King. The thought of Edward made her smile softly to herself.

He had become a close friend in the days and weeks following his invitation to attend Matins with him. Since then, they had spent quite a bit more time together. Of course the court was abuzz about it, but Madge didn't care. He had been nothing but the perfect gentleman, and a good distraction from her wandering thoughts about Paul Bingham.

"You'll love Greenwich Margaret, it is truly a marvel of my father's time."

Elizabeth's glazed over, as they often did when speaking of the late King Henry. Madge watched her face as the other girls pretended not to hear what their Lady spoke of. Their Princess had seen many things in the years following her Father's death, and even more in the years leading up to it. From the corner, a slight cough startled them again. It was the Lady Knollys, her familiar stern smile greeting them.

"Margaret, my dear, you've a message from your brother."

Mary met Madge's glance and they both rolled their eyes. Henry was behind his desk in their apartments, fretting over one thing or another and he hadn't the time to fetch his sister himself. She stood, dusting her gown and following the matron from the room. In the hall a pageboy stood.

"I can find my way dear, you needn't-"

"But I was asked to summon you Lady Sidney." his foot scuffed the floor and he didn't meet her gaze "I must bring you myself!"

She laughed. What frippery was this? The servant boy was no more than ten and Madge wondered just what her brother meant by having the lad herd her to the rooms she clearly knew the way to. Instead of questioning, she followed, smiling back at the Lady Knollys who watched like a hawk.

Henry had been busy lately, as he'd risen in rank in the King's Privy council. They had always been good friends, but he had become a trusted adviser to his long time comrade and the court seemed to think it was her doing. What had given them the idea she had any sway over Edward, even if they were courting (which they were not), Margaret would never know.

As they took a sharp turn to the right, Margaret felt a strange warning flare up in her mind. This wasn't the way to the familiar apartments Mary and Henry called home while in Whitehall. She slowed and the boy motioned her on, looking frightened that at any moment she would bolt. As they came to a large dark door, Margaret paused for a moment. She was quite sure these suites belonged to the Princess Mary. The pageboy rapped three times, paused and then rapped four more times. After a moment the door cracked open.

"Lady Sidney. It opened just a bit more and a dark clad woman handed the pageboy a gold coin. He scampered away, delighted. Margaret stood, too confused to respond. "My Lady would see you now."

The pinched, spur face of Anne Bassett made Madge feel a sense of deja vu. The last time she'd seen it, Margaret had come to the Lady Mary's chambers as a messenger for Elizabeth. Mary's ladies hadn't seemed too eager to have her amidst them and now she had been summoned (secretly) to their inner sanctum.

"Your Lady? I don't believe I asked to be seen."

Margaret couldn't help but get a little jab in at the horrid Lady Bassett. She was glad to see the woman's eyes open wide and her mouth form a shocked little O of surprise. She looked ready tos lam the door shut, but from inside the chamber she heard a voice.

"Margaret, my dear, please come in."

Madge pushed past the older woman and entered Mary's presence. The room was quaint and small, with the women in it dressed just as plainly. It was their way, just as it had been her mother's way. She smelled incense and wondered where they had hidden the items for their secret masses. Suddenly she wondered if her slippered foot were to apply pressure, if the floorboard would slip, just a bit.

"Your Highness." Madge said sweetly, just as she addressed Elizabeth "To what do I owe the honor of a summons?"

She kneeled in front of Mary, wondering what so many of Edward's courtiers could find to hate. She always seemed serene, at peace, and welcoming. Like her mother, maybe that was what Madge loved. Mary took her hand in both of hers, a soft smile on her face.

"Ah Margaret, you're such a beautiful young woman. Your brother did well to hide you away for so long. But you are no country lass are you? You were meant for bigger things."

Margaret recognized the same glassy eyed look Elizabeth seemed to have when she recalled the past. She wondered if Mary was remembering her youth, when it was said her delicate beauty had been praised around the Kingdom. Time had ravished her. Madge shivered at the thought.

"How is my dear sister? Does she pray daily? Keep up on her studies?"

Mary sounded truly interested, They had grown apart, but Madge knew that years ago they had been true sisters, before court intrigue and succession had torn them asunder.

"She prays often milady, and studies more than that." Madge laughed and Mary nodded.

"I would see her more, but there is often talk when we are together, and talk can be dangerous. I'm sure you understand that."

Margaret nodded. She wasn't as well versed in court intrigue as the women in this room, but she was no longer a naive country bumpkin. This was meant to be a secret.

"I do."

A solemn nod. She stood from her chair, stout and benevolent in her stiff black gown. She nodded to her women, who all seemed to slowly fade into the back of the room, whispering to each other and giving Margaret a few choice looks.

"My dear, it is hard for one like myself to have allies at court. There are snakes and vultures at every turn. It is equally hard for anyone to ally with me. You know, as well as I, that Edward has been poisoned against me and I am trapped because of those enemies."

Margaret immediately thought of John Dudley, who would sooner see the Princess beheaded than back at Framlingham, gaining momentum against her Protestant brother with the help of her Catholic countrymen. She nodded.

"But child, I have watched you and I see the grace in you that I once saw in your mother. She was a dear friend of my own mother, young as she was. Did you know this?"

"She spoke of the good Queen Catherine often. But she was ashamed."

"Why?"

"Because she served the Lady Anne and the Lady Jane after Queen Catherine was..."

Madge looked at the floor, uncertain of how to continue.

"Put aside." Mary said icily "After she was put aside."

"Yes. She always felt horrid. That was why she never wanted me at court. She said it was all to easy for ones friends to betray you and for you to betray them."

"Your mother was a wise woman. But I am glad you are here, at court I mean. You care for Edward, do you not?"

Madge's face flared up. She couldn't find the words to answer. No one had asked her of her feelings for the King, other than the girls jokes and jests. She found herself nodding, feeling a strange pulling feeling in her stomach.

"Yes, of course. And I am sure he cares for you." she fished in her pocket pulling out a long silver chain "Take this. It belonged to my mother. She gave it to your mother on the day of her wedding. When she died, the Late Lady Sidney returned it to me and now I will give it back to you."

She placed it in her hand and Margaret was in awe of the diamond and pearl encrusted rosary she held in her hand.

"I ask, only in return, you would be my ally. As dangerous as it is, I would be as loyal to you as our mothers were to each other. Because she may have been ashamed, but she was always true to Queen Catherine's memory."

Margaret nodded, tears in her eyes. Mary embraced her briefly and then turned towards the door.

"It would be prudent to cut this visit short Margaret. At my brother's court, the walls have ears."

As she walked down the hall, back to Elizabeth's suite she felt her heart thudding wildly in her chest. She knew it was illegal to even think about using the rosary she now held. But it seemed to radiate heat in her hand, a reminder of her mother and the faith Anne Sidney had kept secretly her entire life.


	7. Chapter 7

**KINGS AND PAWNS**_  
CHAPTER VII_

* * *

_November 25th, 1555_**  
WHITEHALL PALACE, ENGLAND**

"_**F**_or verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled. Whosoever therefore shall break one of these least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven: but whosoever shall do and teach them, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven..."

Margaret stifled a yawn, her hand fiddling with the seed pearls that adorned her skirt. She fought the urge to turn her head and glance at the Lord of the Realm, who sat only three seats down listening to the Archbishop of York drone on. Madge loved the passage he was reading, just as she loved the Sermon on the Mount; but listening to Robert Holgate was awful. Although, she could never say anything of the sort. As one of the prevalent religious leaders in the country, his sermons weren't to be yawned at. Between her and Edward, Mary and Henry sat, seemingly entranced by the prelate's words. Margaret looked past them, her eyes wandering. It wouldn't be seemly for a maiden to sit directly next to the King. But none of this was really seemly, and everyone knew it.

It had been quite awhile since the rumors had begun circulating. The King paid her special attention, and she was often with him. Her family had been given favor and it was obvious that she had as well. At first it had been claimed she was his mistress, but Henry had quickly silenced that. Margaret was a maid, untouched by any man and still available to be married. Madge shivered. The idea of marriage scared her, even to the King of England. She shook her head. There was no denying it now, or shrugging it off. Edward was not merely after her companionship, and she knew that if his eye fell on her she would have no choice. That was the way of the Tudor court. His Father had done the same, nearly six times.

Margaret ticked off the names of Henry VIII's wives in her head, many of whom became his victims. She looked back at the King and startled when she noticed he returned her glance. Her cheeks flushed violently and she looked back at the pulpit. By the time Holgate had stopped speaking she was clutching the arm of her chair and forcing herself not to look. Her stomach flipped. She had the sensation of a beast being lead to slaughter, having no control over what would happen next.

"Margaret?" Mary was leaning over, her hands on her ample belly "Come dear, we are to dine."

Mary was glowing with her second pregnancy. Madge nodded, bringing herself back to earth. She stood, dusting her dress off and moving out of the pew. Henry was waiting at the end, one arm outstretched to escort his sister. They would go to the King's chambers to dine, as they always did. Henry cleared his throat.

"What troubles you sister?"

She looked up, shocked that he could sense her unease. He was too perceptive, her courtly mask was not enough to fool him. He sighed.

"You have not spoken to me in days, it seems, and when you do you are preoccupied."

"Henry." she looked at her feet, nearly tripping as they walked. Around them the court talked and laughed and discussed the sermon. She gulped. "I am frightened."

He paused, holding them back from the group. Mary turned to see what was keeping her husband, but she saw he and Madge were speaking and continued walking.

"Of what Margaret? What frightens you so that you cannot confide in your own kin?"

"The King."

Henry stopped, and a knowing look crossed his face. Edward had all but pegged her for courtship, and was only going through the necessary steps to make the decision acceptable to his council, and his people. Margaret would have to be groomed, advised, titled. He could not marry a commoner woman without using his own power to do so. Henry had just been waiting for it to begin. He had never assumed Margaret would catch on.

"Oh Madge, you have nothing to fear. I am here to speak for you, to make sure you are taken care of. And His Majesty is my good friend. He will make a fine hus-"

"So it is true then?" she asked, eyes tearing "And I have no say? If he picks me I am at his mercy!"

"Quiet! You think to refuse a King? Margaret, be reasonable!"

"Better to refuse than to be buried under the Tower Green."

Her last words were a horrified whisper. Henry put a hand over his eyes. They all knew the History of the old King, King Henry VIII and Margaret feared her King to be of the same merit. But she didn't understand.

"Please, sister, trust me. I will protect you, as will your Sovereign."

Madge stifled another outburst and nodded, untangling her arm from her brother's. She had to go, to get away from these people. Up in front she saw Sir Robert, twirling the Lady Elizabeth like they were on the dance floor. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"I must go collect myself. I will sup shortly. Excuse me Sire."

Henry watched as she scuffled away, towards her rooms. He caught up with his wife and wrapped an arm around her waist. He loved Mary. He had to believe that Edward or no, he could find a husband to cherish his own sister. Mary patted his hand.

"She is young. She will come about."

"From your lips to God's ears my love."

He kissed her forehead and they headed towards the King's Chambers. Below, Margaret fled, past the Kitchens and out into the courtyard. The grounds were nearly deserted, and she felt herself shiver in the cool air. From afar she could hear the horses hooves and men's voices. The stables. She turned that way, holding up her silk hem to keep it from fraying and getting dirty.

As she neared she recognized a few valets and pageboys who gave her appreciative looks, but kept their distance. Right ahead, she saw a familiar fair haired boy running about, a carved wooden horse in his hand. She reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out an iced date from breakfast that morning.

"Boy." she said softly, leaning down to greet him "Come here boy!"

Stephan turned, his big blue eyes wide. No one had noticed her but him and he looked about for guidance. No one spoke. She smiled and waved him over. He smiled in return and raced over.

"This is my horse. His name is Robin."

"Like Robinhood? Do you like that story?"

"It is my favorite!"

"Here love. Have a sweet."

His eyes lit up as he took the date from her hand. She reached in for another when a sharp voice interrupted them.

"Stephan. Come here."

"The little boy looked up at his brother and back at the strange woman who had given him sweets. She had more. He paused."

"Now."

Margaret looked up and locked gazes with the servant who had so humiliated before. She stood, her back straight and her eyes narrow.

"Thank you Milady."

She patted his head and gave him a gentle push. He ran to his brother, who pushed him behind him and crossed his arms.

"What? Have you come to out me?"

Margaret rolled her eyes.

"I have come to inspect the stables. Is there any harm in that young sir? Or will you quell your scathing tongue."

He studied her for a moment and then smiled. She couldn't help it, she smiled back.

"She is a wonderful Lady Paul."

"I suppose she is." he took a slight bow "I am Paul Bingham, of Cheapside."

"And I am Margaret Sidney, of Croxden," she exaggerated, letting him no she was no haughty lady, but a common country girl "It is a pleasure to meet you Sir Stephan and Sir Paul."

Stephan stepped forward again.

"May I have another sweet?"

Paul and Margaret locked eyes. He had a far off gaze, something that made her feel uneasy, he took a few steps forward and they were closer than they had been. He gave Stephan his own little push. Margaret pulled out another date and Paul took a step closer.

"You have come to spy on us then? To see how the other side lives eh?"

"Believe or nay sir, I was this other side you speak of, only a few short months past."

"You are the sister of the young Lord Henry?"

"Yes. Henry Sidney is my brother."

"They say you came from the country, but so far? I would not have pegged it. I would think you some well traveled, beautiful lady."

She blushed quickly at the flattery and turned her head, walking towards a horse. It was a brown mare, with strong legs and a good saddle already strapped on.

"Who says? Surely I am not that infamous."

"They say you are the King's whore."

Margaret spun around. Luckily Stephan was off playing with his horse, and munching on his date. She fumed.

"I had thought." she hissed "To come and relay my apologies, but it seems I am quite mistaken in your character, SIR."

Paul laughed and she felt another spark of pure, hot anger.

"Ah, so now I know for myself it isn't true."

"Certainly not! I am no strumpet, you, you knave!"

He held a hand out, and she realized he was much closer than she realized. She felt her breath stop for a moment. He reached forward, a finger brushing the exposed skin on her collarbone. She should have recoiled, but she stood frozen.

"It is I who should apologize. I needed only to assure myself that the tales were only rumors, My lady Margaret."

Margaret was confused. He laughed. He was so close, his face only inches from hers. She could almost feel his lips, imagining them brushing against her skin, as his fingers had. She shuddered. Then, suddenly, there was a noise from the the back of the stable and like a flash of lightning Paul was gone. She stood, on the dirty floor, alone and wondering just what had happened. Then, without warning, three men came galloping in. John Dudley, his son Guildford and one of their valets. Margaret startled, completely unsure of what to do. Dudley cocked his head to the side, recognizing the Sidney girl.

"My." he said, removing his gloves "What is the Lady Sidney doing in the stable?"

Margaret took a breath and smiled, putting on an air of casual indifference.

"I went on a walk for some fresh air, I was feeling rather piqued, and I decided to stroll thru the stables and see the beasts."

Dudley looked unconvinced, but Margaret did not care. She gave the men a curtsy and began walking out, leaving the men alone in the stable. John looked down at his son.

"We will keep an eye on her. A close one."

As she fled from the stables Margaret cursed herself. What had that been? She had hoped to see the youth (Paul, yes Paul was his name) but what had drawn her to stay? To let him so close? He had been playing games with her, overjoyed to see her squirm. Or had he? She shook her head and broke into a run. She hoped Dudley wouldn't speak of her at the King's supper. She would not be there, she couldn't bring herself to go.


	8. Chapter 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Getting back into the hang of updating regularly! This story is just busting to get out! Please keep telling me how I can make this better, or what parts I did good enough to make you take a second look! That feedback is so great and you guys have been really awesome. Thanks so much for taking an interest in my little alternate history story that could.

* * *

**KINGS AND PAWNS**  
_Chapter VIII_

* * *

_December 5th, 1555  
_**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

The King's presence Chamber was quiet. This cold December morning had been filled more with paperwork than anything else and as Edward reviewed yet another Treatise on foreign trade he felt boredom itching at him. He longed for Summer, for a good round in the tilt yard, or a hunt. Something to keep him occupied, besides this dreary weather.

"Your Majesty." Dudley said from across the room "Would you care for some wine? Or ale? Or-"

Edward waved him off, standing from his chair and approaching the window. The wind whipped snow off of the tall roofs and turrets of his Father's famed pleasure palace. It truly was a marvel. He stopped at the memory of his Father, and pondered their differences.

Henry VIII had followed his own desires, to infamy and to his own death. He had been a great man, tearing England from the grasp of the Great Whore in Rome, but he had left a stain of tyranny and violence a mile long. Edward had felt, for years, the urge to cleanse the sins of his Father thru his rule. He was a man now, grown to maturity and ready to rule his Kingdom as his Father never could. He wanted to be respected, and not feared. He wanted to be a beloved King. He wanted to be loved.

At this thought of the word love, a familiar face immediately entered his thoughts. Her soft smile, her intelligent eyes. She was delightful, and every moment with her had been refreshing. It was something of a marvel to Edward, who had never known those feelings for any woman. Where his Father was excessive, Edward was careful. Women, as he had been taught from an early age, were creatures of sin. They were venomous in their wiles, and would use a man to their own ends. He was wary of them, and how they could bring him to his own ruin. But this young woman, she was splendidly different.

"Dudley." he said, his hands clasped behind his back "It is time, I suppose, that I took a wife."

The Duke of Northumberland looked up, startled. Had his moment finally arrived? Was the King looking to him for advice, as he so rightfully should, on such an important matter?

"Yes Your Majesty, I agree."

Edward strode back to his desk, one long fingered hand tracing the intricate wooden patterns. He knew it was expected that he marry to the benefit of England. But there could be no Spanish Princess, or French Princess, or Scottish Princess. Those countries were still under the spell of the Anti Christ, the Pope himself.

There was always the Holy Roman Empire. But the idea of a foreign wife, shipped from some small Protestant Duchy was frightening. He would suffer an Anne of Cleves as readily as his Father. He sat, staring at his most trusted advisory with a serious look on his face.

"She will be English." he said softly "Of that I am absolutely certain. I need a Protestant woman, on a Protestant throne. A woman of good English stock."

Dudley nodded. A powerful Heiress maybe? Someone to unite his Kingdom strongly against the growing Catholic menace in the South. Dudley stepped forward, the gears clicking in his head. His Daughter had come to mind. Daughter of a Duke, eligible age, from fertile stock. Who would oppose him? The Howard's had done it, not once but twice. The Seymour's had done it and their boy was on the throne. The Woodville's had done it a century ago with the White Queen Elizabeth. And her Daughter had been King Edward VI's Grandmother. Common women were dynasty makers for men like him.

But he had already betrothed her, or began the process, to Henry Hastings who would be the Earl of Pembroke when his Father died. Francis Hastings was a powerful man and a strong ally. Plus the family had the clout of their Plantagenet heritage behind them. At twenty he was handsome and resourceful and a good match for his lively daughter.

No, he would either control the King himself, or find someone who would be controlled. It didn't necessarily have to be the brilliant Edward VI. But that was all for the future, if worse came to worse.

"Dudley? Am I boring you?"

He looked up. Edward's eyes were sharp and Dudley felt an odd sense of fear. This Edward the Boy King had never stared at him like that. He was growing comfortable with this authority; as many said his Father had when he broke free of the catholic church.

"No sire. I was simply considering all the possibilities. Who would benefit you the most, Your Majesty."

Edward nodded and then smiled, slightly.

"What do you think of Margaret Sidney?"

Dudley was no surprised. Hadn't he seen this coming? His suggestions of Jane Grey or any suggestion of his daughter had been and would be useless. The Sidney girl had enchanted him, he had made up his mind. Obsession seemed to be a genetic trait in the Tudor Kings.

"Ah, she is a wonderful Maid. Catherine speaks highly of her."

He nodded. Elizabeth's ladies had become the delights of his court. It was a little court within a court. The girls had made fast friends and their youthful energy was always welcomed. Margaret was outshone only by his brilliant sister. But it was hard to outshine Elizabeth. Even so, Margaret was a great beauty and popular to the nobility.

"I believe." the King said softly, looking out at the snow falling softly "I shall have to speak to her Brother."

Dudley smiled, walking for it and placing a hand on his King's shoulder. Edward did not shake him off. They had not seen eye to eye lately, but Dudley was still like a Father to him.

"Your Majesty, I can arrange it all, if you would wish it so."

Edward paused. And nodded.

"But first, bring Henry to me. I would speak to my old friend, before you begin."

* * *

"Jane."

Margaret sat up in her bed, turned towards Jane's. She had been reading by candlelight for hours, but the candle had gone out, and she had not re lit it. Was she finally asleep. Sitting up, and pushing the warm coverlet back, she rose. Catherine and Eleanor were still asleep. Past them, in the inner chamber Elizabeth slept as well. Two ladies maids slept on pallets outside her door, just as two slept outside of theirs.

They all slept. Looking outside at the gently falling snow she felt restless. She pulled her thick souled shoes and pulled them on, over her stockings. Her heavy velvet cloak fit around her shoulders with a swish in the light of the dying fire. A servant would come soon to stir the embers. From her days in Croxden, and her many escapes from her stern Governess, Madge remembered to putt to pillows under her blankets. It looked like she was tucked beneath, sleeping soundly.

Walking silently out through their receiving chamber, she entered the hall. The drafty corridor was lit by wall torches and she followed a familiar path towards the courtyard, just before the gardens. It was chilly as she passed outside. The snow fell gently from the sky and she wondered at its beauty as she crossed towards the garden. The snow could hide all the proof she'd ever been here. She smiled at the idea.

Passing through the dormant plants, that had just been in bloom it seemed, she touched the cold snow. Bringing it to her lips she marveled at how it tasted just as it had out in the country. What was she doing here? At the center of England, in a place she had never imagined could exist. It was like some village tale she had heard as a child. A fairy story. Magic.

"Lost, Milady?"

His voice startled and fulfilled her at the same time. She had hoped, secretly hoped, that he would be here tonight. She froze. Paul, the youth from the stables, was there. Dressed in a clean white shirt and rough woolen breeches over his stockings. His long blond hair hung loosely around his face in ringlets. He was very fair, very handsome and his smile made her shudder. This was the strangest feeling she had ever had.

"I have come to inspect the grounds. Greenwich is a very beautiful palace."

"Much more so than Whitehall, I must say."

She paused, taking a step past him, in a wide circle.

"Has your family accompanied you here? To Greenwich?"

His head was cocked to the side. This was his moment, he would either say what was needed and woo her, or he would betray himself with fear. This creature, this polished girl who he saw in his dreams at night. He was lowly, a peasant, and she ate not four feet from the King's own table. She was famous about London now, even with the common people. Youngest Daughter of the much loved William Sidney, she was rumored to be the highest favorite of the King. And since Paul knew he had not bedded her, that meant he was in danger. If Edward chose her, she was off limits.

"Noli me tangere." he murmured. She startled, as if he had said something shocking.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"Touch me not?" she hissed "Pray, why would you say that?"

"Lady Sidney I did not intend to offend-"

"For Caesar's I am." she said quietly, to herself "That is what they all say now, it seems."

He stepped up. She took one step back.

"My family stayed at Whitehall. My Father and I accompanied the Court to Greenwich. He requested to come, and I asked if I could accompany him."

She stared at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"For the pay of course. I would rather enjoy sending my mother a worthy gift this Advent."

Margaret couldn't help but smile at that. It was obvious their family was close, despite the differences he and his Father seemed to have. This young man was a mystery to her. Obviously of poor lineage, a peasant, a servant, but he was learned. He was well learned and had the air of someone accustomed to the court. She was opposite. Her family was well respected, yet she was in no way on sure footing at court. She envied him that natural grace, and it enticed her as well.

"It is rather well suited, for you." she murmured, looking down at the snow covered ground "As I am no longer at Whitehall Palace."

He was closer now, she could see him nearing, even though she did not look up.

"Very well suited."

His fingers lifted at her chin tentatively. She looked up at his face and felt a warmth rush through her. He leaned down and his lips gently touched hers. Margaret closed her eyes. She had never been touched by a man, never before been kissed as he had just kissed her.

She pulled back, a dazed expression on her face. Paul smiled, pulling her close, and burying his face in her mane of thick hair. He sighed.

"You must go back inside. You will be missed, it is nearly dawn."

Sure enough, the sun was spreading over the sky, lighting the winter world gently. Madge nodded and entangled herself from his embrace. He did not resist her, but he did not aid her. He wanted to stay like this, with her wrapped in his arms. With one last glance, she said nothing, Margaret turned and hurried back inside the castle. She would find her way back to her bed without seeing another soul. Meanwhile Paul stood in the same spot, wrapping his arms around himself to fend off the chill and staring at the sky.

Surely, God worked in mysterious ways.

After awhile he made his way back to the servant's quarters, and readied for the long day ahead.

Upstairs, in her own bed, Margaret had forsaken sleep. She wondered, just where the stable boy was and if he was thinking of her the way she was dreaming of him. All the worries about the King and her future washed away. All there was room for was him. Paul. The world had changed for her, and would never be the same.


	9. Chapter 9

**KINGS AND PAWNS** _Chapter IX_

* * *

_December 9th, 1555 _**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

"_**T**_he green?" Elizabeth spun around, pouting heavily "Hadn't I change my colors once in awhile. Its always green, green, green."

She was in a beautiful gown, shipped from Florence, made of silk and damask. It was three shades of green and studded with flecks of diamonds. It was beautiful and she was throwing a fit. Catherine stared at Margaret, who shook her head, exasperated.

"My Lady it is a wondrous gown. A gift from the Prince Eric. And green suits you most beautifully. It would be a waist not to wear it."

Elizabeth shook her head, pacing the length of her bed, back and forth, back and forth. She had been a woman possessed since the Swedish Prince's arrival three days earlier. It had been a total surprise, and Elizabeth had decided it was Edward's doing. He had invited the Prince, in secrecy, to blindside her. Margaret didn't believe that. He had meant it as a surprise, and any sister would be thrilled. Eric was tall and well made, the Heir to a Kingdom of his own. Edward could make Elizabeth a Queen, if she would only cooperate. Jane sat sullenly, looking out the window, depressing as she always was. Eleanor huffed.

"Its a party Elizabeth!" she said, getting to her feet "You're not betrothed. You are going to welcome a fellow Prince to England. Let us ready, we wouldn't want to miss the revels!"

Eleanor Neville, dressed in a buttery yellow colored gown, was always cheerful. She was the best at raising Elizabeth's spirits. The Princess looked up, seemingly accepting of her fate. She signaled to her Ladies maids who began setting her hair, as the other girls helped each other dress.

Catherine wore a maroon and red dress with a daringly low cut neckline. She was soon to be betrothed herself, to the wealthy and handsome Henry Hastings who would be Earl of Huntingdon someday. She'd been especially mindful of her appearance since her Father had announced his plans. Jane wore a plain gray and silver gown. It was her finest, but was modest and simple. That was Jane's way. But the poor girl looked more like a prisoner lead to the gallows than a pretty young maid off to see her own betrothed. Guildford Dudley was no handsome, landed man. He was a spoiled brat, landless, title-less and the last in a line of four sons. But that wasn't why Jane was upset. She would have rather been wed to a book than a man.

Margaret had gone for a dark blue, which set off her skin quite well. She was neither scared or upset. She was excited for the banquet and the entertainment, but she was more excited about something of another nature all together. She had seen Paul twice since he'd kissed her. Both occasions had been exhilarating and frightening. It was what most poets and troubadours called love. Her stomach flipped nervously at the thought. She blushed, and smiled to herself.

"What are you smiling about?" Jane asked sourly, as they all readied to head down to the revels "You're _beloved _will be in attendance too. You're no free maid Madge, remember?"

Margaret turned, her face set stonily.

"Oh don't be so tragic Jane."

"It is tragic isn't it? We have no say. Our Father and Brothers sell us like livestock to slaughter. You're butcher is just a King."

She smiled sadly and walked past, leaving Margaret alone in the room. No matter how much she thought of Paul, the idea of a betrothal to the King of England always loomed over her head. It was only a matter of time before she learned the truth. She should have been excited, waiting on pins an needles. But she was frightened. More so than she'd ever been in her whole life.

"Madge!" Catherine's voice called from down the corridor "Come now! We must enter together, as always."

Margaret hurried out, joining her small group of maids. They had become inseparable lately, all lead by Elizabeth and cared for by the Lady Knollys. Some said it was a little court within a court. It was certainly exhilarating, being at the center of the Court's attention. Exhilarating and daunting and treacherous. Favor could easily turn to disgrace. She had learned that in her short time at the Tudor court.

"THE LADY ELIZABETH!"

As they began to file in, they were announced. Margaret was at the end of the line and cursed herself. She would be the last to enter and target for many glares and stares. But there was no going back now. As she entered she tried to keep her eyes glued to the wall in front of her. It wasn't hard. The Great Hall had been decorated beautifully in red, blue and gold. Those were the colors of the Swedish Coat of Arms, or so Madge had been told. Banners streamed down from the rafters and huge tapestries covered the walls. The assorted Nobility who had come to see this foreign Prince, had arrived in all their finery. The crowd was ready for dinner and a show, and expected the King to put on a good one.

At the head of the hall, sitting in a seat next to the King, was a fair haired youth. He was well built, muscular, with an easy smile. His eyes were sharp and his posture proud. He and Edward's heads were close together as the two young men talked of Princely things. Eric was well dressed, enough to garner attention but not enough to outshine the King. Suddenly Edward laughed, giving the Prince a hard pat on the back.

"THE LADY MARGARET SIDNEY!"

The King paused, his eyes lifting to meet hers. She paused and curtseyed low, her eyes on the rushes, before walking to her seat at the table, just to the right of the King's. Elizabeth sat next to Eric and Mary sat next to Edward. The whole royal family was out in force. Dudley watched from across, his eyes keen as always.

"I'm starved." Catherine said with a frown "And where is Henry? His Father and Mother are right over there? Shouldn't he be-"

Margaret wasn't paying attention now. She was taking in the whole Great Hall. This was the grandest banquet they'd had yet, and she was still in awe of how opulent the lives of Edward's courtiers really was. She felt his eyes on her as she studied her surroundings, but tried not to look. If she did, she might bolt.

"To the good King Edward!" suddenly, a voice rang out, silencing the chattering hall.

A toast to the King was a common gesture, usually at least one was called for at each gathering the court had. But the entire room seemed to be witnessing something vibrant and new, the way they were hanging on this strangers words. Margaret noticed Edward, however, was still staring at her. A small smile played on his lips and she couldn't help but feel like running from the hall.

Is this how Elizabeth's mother had felt? This impossible weight on her chest at the thought of the King giving her a second glance, favoring her above all others. It was impossible, it was frightening and it was confusing. Of course, it must have been much worse for Anne Boleyn, as the late King Henry had already been wed when his eye landed on her.

Was Edward's stare as piercing as his Father's? If so, Anne would have been a mad woman to have not been frightened at what that stare implied. Margaret shivered, looking up.

"-and my Father, King Gustav of Sweden, extends his hand in friendship. Any King, so willing to bring the word of our Lord to his people is an ally to my Father and the true faith."

Margaret felt Jane perk up. Any mention of "the True Faith" immediately garnered her interest. She was leaning forward listening now. It was widely known that Sweden had separated from the Catholic Church during their own Reformation years before.

"So, in lieu of his gratitude and friendship, I come, bearing gifts!"

The doors were suddenly flung open. A shot of flame burst forth into the great hall, from the darkness. A few of the noble ladies screamed, and men's hands reached for their weapons. But then three men burst in. Two of them had landed from back flips onto their feet. Jesters!

They were dressed in all white, with wooden swords and masks shaped like Knight helmets. Them came the dragon.

Claps and cheers exploded and the creature entered. It was three men, on walking and two perched on his huge, muscular shoulders. They were dressed in green scales and one of the men on the shoulders had a torch. A fire breather! The monster stalked in, breathing flame and the two Knights attacked. As they slew the dragon, Eric stood again. The crowd cheered merrily at the masque and he bowed smartly. Elizabeth was laughing and Edward nodded at her, playfully.

"That was rather...unexpected." Jane said, straightening her bodice. Margaret laughed and took a sip of her spiced wine.

"Now that you've all been properly entertained, shall we sup?" Edward bellowed, slamming his fist on the table "Feed us!"

More cheers. And the food was brought out. The feasting would go on into the night, but the first course was always the most spectacular. Eels and lampreys in a thick, spicy sauce. Huge platters full of several kinds of roasted meats. Fish of all kinds, venison, rabbit, soups, sauces, breads, sweet meats, pastries, and so much more. As Margaret set down her spoon, she couldn't help but rest her hand son her belly.

"You'll get as big as a German Frau if you aren't careful." Catherine said with a coy smile "Then what would the King want with you."

Madge fixed her with an angry stare, but Catherine giggled. In the background a tune started, the musicians playing a lively song. Many stood, leading partners to the middle of the hall or slapped the table to the beat. Prince Eric stood, offering his hand to Elizabeth. She hesitated, but smiled and accepted as he swept her off to the floor. Robert Dudley sat sullenly, his arms crossed like an angry boy.

Soon everyone was up dancing, passing thru the crowd, touching only hands as they spun. Margaret joined in. Since coming to court she'd found she loved celebrations like these. Especially the dances. The world spun in a dash of color, as she twirled and spun, from partner to partner. Some faces were familiar, others strange. But it didn't matter. One face, as familiar as it was, made her gasp.

"A dance, My Lady?"

It seemed every eye was on them. Margaret looked up into Edward's face. It was handsome, and honest and kind. He watched her, waiting for an answer.

"Of course Your Majesty."

His hands were steady as they performed the steps. The music slowed, and the steps of the dance grew dignified. Edward was the perfect gentleman. His hands pressed softly on the small of her back. He held her hand delicately as he twirled her beneath him. Soon, Margaret found herself laughing. Edward smiled warmly, and leaned towards her ear.

"I have dreamt of you night and day." he said in a breath "My men call it infatuation. Is that what this is Margaret? It is rather unpleasant."

She stiffened, and looked away. He found her unpleasant? Or just his being drawn to her? She felt cornered, but he laughed.

"You would soothe my discomfort if you would only-"

His sentence broke away and she raised an eyebrow.

"Your Majesty?"

Edward looked down and laughed loudly. A few courtiers turned to look at him and laughed themselves. Margaret frowned. He was playing with her. Suddenly she was less afraid and more impatient. What did he want?

"Your face was rather telling. No, dear Margaret, I would not proposition you to be my Mistress. But I would proposition you."

\

"In what way, exactly, would you do that Your Majesty?"

She was smiling now, she couldn't help it. He was confident, and witty. She had spent so much time cowering from him, she had never let herself see him. He was a man, as much as a King.

"I would beg of you, sup with me tomorrow. Just you and I." he pressed his hand to her back again, pushing her towards him just an inch "And I will honor your maiden virtue with no propositions of that kind, I assure you."

He winked and she laughed softly, her face inches from the fur on his shoulder. How nice would it be just to close her eyes and rest her head there. Then he would lean down, his blonde hair brushing her face and her would kiss her, as he had done-

She froze. She had been envisioning Paul's arms around her, Paul's hands pulling her closer. She stepped back, giving a quick curtsey.

"I would be honored, Your Majesty. But for now, I promised Mary I would come to her before I went to bed and as the hour is growing late, I should go."

Margaret turned, her heart thudding in her chest. She was playing a very dangerous game and she felt a heavy anxiety in her stomach as she tried her best to walk slowly out of the Hall, though she wanted to sprint.

As she passed through the door and passed a dark corridor, a hand shot out. It was bejeweled and slender. The Maid stopped her in her tracks and looked at her face to face. She looked sour and sullen, like a child who hadn't gotten her way.

"What Lady, in her right mind, would marry Henry VII's son? Wouldn't you much rather _keep _your head?"

Madge balked.

"That is treasonous! Unhand me!"

She obeyed, but a smirk replaced her features. She was dressed in a gown of cream and lavender, but it wasn't a very new gown. It looked a few seasons old, and not that well made. Margaret dusted the sleeve of her own dress.

"You should watch how you speak of our King, girl." Margaret tried her best to sound authoritative "It is not wise to say such things."

The girl laughed and waved her away. She made her way back into the great hall and Margaret continued back upstairs. Maybe she would visit Mary. Any excuse to keep her from running off to the stables. For now, she didn't need the distractions Paul would bring.


	10. Chapter 10

**KINGS AND PAWNS  
**_Chapter X _

* * *

December 12th, 1555  
**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

_**A**_s the day wore on, Margaret realized just how lazy Elizabeth's little retinue of ladies had become. She was tired as she reached for yet another red silk bow to hang over the railing above the great stairs. It was quite a difference than sipping wine, eating sweet meats, gossiping and doing needle point. But Mary said that was all apart of life for noble ladies as the winter months set in. Margaret didn't mind it. It sure beat digging animals from the barn, from beneath six feet of snow.

Her mind often wandered back to Croxden these days. The holidays in her sister's village had been nothing compared to this. The most privileged men and women in all of England were here to celebrate the season. Margaret had officially had her last country Christmas, of that she was sure. The great hall was busy as servants and workers prepped the palace for the celebrations. The twelve nights of Christmas began the next night and there was much to be done.

"Madge!" Eleanor called up "Come down here. Jane is useless!"

Margaret turned to Catherine who sniggered and nodded towards them. Mistress Ashley and Mistress Knollys nodded their approval and Madge headed down. Without Elizabeth there, the two women were their chaperones. As she neared the end of the stairs she noticed Jane was sulking in the corner.

"Oh you do mope so, you layabout!" Eleanor said roughly, her hands full of little evergreen boughs "There is work to be done aplenty. Elizabeth would see you lashed for this!"

That wasn't true. Elizabeth understood her younger cousin's melancholy. But this was the plight of women of high birth. She WOULD marry Guildford in a few days and there was nothing she could do. Margaret sat next to her.

"Come. You know you cannot pout. You can no surer run from this than you can from your own future dearest Jane."

Jane looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.

"My life is over." the frail, pale thing said "I will loose all I am, and I will be some man's property."

Madge held out a hand and Jane took it.

"You will still be Jane." she whispered "He cannot take all you are, and even if he tries, he can't contain you for long."

The words were encouraging, but both girls knew that wasn't true. Jane was going to be expected to be merry in bed and board for her new husband, and she would legally be his property. But Madge refused to let her fall into this state.

"Now come, and decorate the hall or I'll have them bleed all that hateful bile from you. It's the Yuletide, after all!"

And she did. There were times when Jane could almost make herself forget her future. And when she did remember she kept thanking god that Guildford and his Father were staunch Protestants and so she would never have to worry about the safety of her immortal soul.

"You soothed the unfortunate girl's nerves?" Catherine said as she came down, surveying their work "Our little Madge. The miracle worker."

"Don't blaspheme Cat." she said with a grin " Now, are you as hungry as I-"

"Margaret?" Eleanor walked up behind them, pointing "Is that not your brother? The good Sir Henry?"

Madge looked up and she did indeed spot her brother walking towards them. Mistress Ashley was walking down the stairs to fetch the girls and she motioned at them as he neared. Catherine sighed.

"Of course. No dalliance for me. I'm foresworn now. It's a shameful waste."

She winked and followed Jane and Eleanor up the stairs. As Henry neared, he smiled and reached out for her hand. Madge took it, and he covered it with both of his. He looked sad as his eyes took in her face. They had grown apart since her arrival at court and he missed the child she had been. She had looked at him with trust and love, like a Father. Now she looked as if she did not know him.

"Sister." he said, his voice lowered. Margaret felt her eyes water slightly and she took a deep breath, collecting herself.

"Henry. It has...I have..."

She stumbled, he squeezed her hand.

"Mary has told me to send you her love and tell you how much she misses you. When the babe is born, she wants you to be there."

Margaret was so thankful to her sister-in-law. All the tension faded and she smiled broadly. She was in her seventh month now and would be in her eighth in only two more weeks. The babe would be born in late January or early February.

"Oh how is she Henry?" she asked "I miss her dearly. Elizabeth asks of her nearly every day."

He smiled and brushed a strand of hair back from her face.

"She is well. She and the babe are healthy and the Midwife says she will have an easy birth." he paused "But what of you sister? How have you fared?"

Since their last meeting she had managed to become infatuated with a stable boy and come no closer to finding a way out of marrying the King. But of course, she would never let Henry know that. She let out a short breath.

"I have spent a lot of time in prayer."

He nodded, but still looked concerned. Madge's eyes narrowed.

"What troubles you Brother?"

Henry let go of her hand and paced in front of her, looking anxious. He stopped and pulled her aside, into an alcove.

"There are _rumors _Margaret."

She gasped. How? Not a soul had seen her with Paul and even Catherine didn't know her secret passion for him. He couldn't have told anyone! She prayed he hadn't.

"Henry they are but stories-"

"It matters not." he said stiffly "Because they endanger your life. You know that the King is against Rome and anything to do with the Catholics. With you being as close as you are to him now, how could you think...?"

"Catholics?"

He stopped.

"Yes Catholics. The whole court is abuzz at your weekly visits to Mary's rooms and how close you have become. She is disgraced Margaret! She live she under her brother's mercy but also under his watchful eye. It is dangerous to flirt with heresy, Madame."

Henry was angry, she could tell. She wondered if her mother had ever shown him the beautiful statues and golden plate and tapestries she had saved from a Monastery when King Henry had their razed. She wondered if she had ever brought him to the Chapel for a secret Mass. If she had, Henry had not been as effected as Margaret. She stepped back.

"Only a few decades ago, Protestants were called Heretics and the Church of England damned to hell."

He grabbed her, roughly, and pushed her into the dark.

"Do you want to live? Do you want Dudley to show your head on a spike on the city walls? Stop this madness. You are no Papist!"

"The Lady Mary is a good and honest woman. She has been very kind to me."

"She is in disgrace!"

"She is the King's sister."

"He has all but banished her! He's to have her betrothed to Sir Francis Russell."

Margaret froze. The very idea of the match would be unbearable to Mary. Russell was an outspoken Reformer and believed wholly in Edward's Church of England. He had risen to power under Dudley, who had assured his rise to Earl of Bedford five years earlier. Not only would she consider it a sin to marry a heretic, but his rank insulted her status as daughter of a King. It was a clear message.

"But the Lady Mary is my friend."

"Elizabeth is your friend. That is enough. Remember you are no longer just a girl, free in the country to bandy about as you please."

"No, I'm not." she said with a grimace "I am motherless, I am a pawn and I am without the Henry who would have kept me safe from anything."

She pulled away from his grasp.

"I will not forsake Mary. If he would kill me for being her friend, he would kill me for something else."

She dusted off her dress and turned to him right before she left.

"If you would like, I could call you Uncle Thomas as I will play the part of his niece Anne." Henry looked at the ground, in shame "They say he was in the audience when that French swordsman took her head."

As she turned to leave him she felt a pain grip her stomach. Her words were much more frightening than she could have imagined. Margaret knew that her life was to change forever. She only hoped, in this game of power and desire, that she could escape with her head.

* * *

**_T_**he cold air brought no comfort as Paul tried to steady the horse he'd been working on all afternoon. The beast was breathing heavily, and was obviously not ready to cooperate.

"Come lad." he said with a smile "If you kick me, I'll only get right back up."

The stallion huffed, as if accepting his challenge, but slowly came back to his senses. He looked over at the hay bale, his body finally relaxing. Paul laughed and stooped again, to finish the shoe. When he was done he lead the horse back to his stall and slowly shut the gate. This was the King's stallion, a great war horse named Hal. After his father.

Paul rubbed his hands together, in an attempt to warm them, and walked through the stables and into the castle. Soon he was near the kitchens, watching as all of the palaces staff as they went about their business. It was nearing the beginning of Advent, and there was always much to be done. Food to be cooked, rooms to be decorated, Nobility to be tended to.

It always amazed him how many it took, to serve so few. He smiled and shook his head, ducking into the kitchens with a lithe step. He ducked beneath a table and reached one hand up, deftly grabbing a piece of bread before turning and leaving. No one had even seen him.

He laughed to himself as he ate a few bites of the fresh bread and stuffed the rest in his shirt. He would give some to Stephan tonight, before the boy went to sleep. Paul remembered being that small, and being hungry. It wasn't fault. Stephan didn't deserve it. And the meager rations his Father was given since he'd been injured didn't feed the family. William had once been a horse breeder. He'd been hired by King Henry to help him buy the best animals. The family had done well, but a few years ago Paul's father had fallen from a horse he'd been attempting to break. He had broken many bones, and had been unable to ride or work without pain since then.

Now, Paul was apprenticing, trying to support his family. But he hated his Father's business. He longed to breathe life into words, as the poets and writers in London did. Since King Henry had opened up England to the wonders of the Reformation, men like him could think more freely, and could teach their fellow Englishmen the letters, that so few truly knew.

Paul sighed as he neared his door. His Father said he was a dreamer, and it would be his biggest downfall. How could he not see that his son was destined for more than toiling for the aristocracy. Margaret had seen it. She had seen something in him, and it had made her forget everything she had learned in her days as the star of King Edward's court.

Stepping in their home, Paul was smiling and his Father recognized the look. Stephan was in the corner with his Psalter and a few wooden toys. His mother was stirring a pot over the fire. The large bed they all shared was made neatly. She had laundered them today.

"Good evening Mother, Father." he leaned down, stroking Stephan's hair "And Sir Stephan."

His brother smiled up at him and pointed to his book. The words, in English rather than Latin as a Catholic psalter would have been, were that of the Bible. Now, every Englishmen could read them. Even little Stephan Bingham.

"Paul we finished our meal nearly twenty minutes past. Where have you been? You're filthy."

Anne Bingham had her hands on her hips. William simply sat at a stool beside the hearth, gazing into the fire. Paul leaned down, kissing his mother's cheek.

"I had to shoe Hal's foot. Edward is to hunt tomorrow and he asked me to-"

"The King?" Anne said, her eyes lighting up "Oh William, it is as if they were boys again. Remember-"

"Anne. Quiet."

William's voice was cold. He didn't like talk of the past, of the family's former glories. The old King was dead, he had failed his family and they were on the brink of ruin. He realized now, more than ever, that he had to save his family. And it began with his eldest son.

"Boy, I have sat by and watched you grow." he said, leaning forward, still looking in the fire "You have made me proud, but you have hurt me. I have seen you, dallying about with servant girls, gambling, sneaking about. You are brash and proud and care not for the practicalities that a man should."

His mother sat, trying to look as if she was busy with mending, and not their talk.

"Father, why do you cut me down?" Paul asked, clenching his fists "It is always the same. I am never a goodly son in your eyes. I will never-"

"No." William shook his head, standing "You will not make me the guilty party Paul. I am your Father and I am to guide you. You may have found pleasure in these women, but she is no servant!"

Paul froze. He realized something was in his Father's grasp.

"This came for you. A pageboy brought it, dressed in livery. They were the colors of Sir Henry Sidney."

Anne Bingham looked up, suddenly interested. She was no Lady or Countess, but she had heard of the Sidney's rise to power under the banner of Henry's youngest sister Margaret. They said the King was going to make her his bride.

"What would a Sidney messenger be doing here?" she asked, William turned to her.

"Mayhap you would ask that question of your boy."

She looked up, concerned.

"Paul what is all this? Speak up boy, who is sending to you."

"I do not know."

He was looking at the floor and his face was hot. He didn't want to fight with his parents about Madge. It would bring his happiness to an abrupt halt.

"It is from his sister. The Lady Margaret. She and Paul are exchanging letters."

Anne put a hand to her heart, her eyes widened.

"Oh Paul. What have you done?"

She looked furious, as did William. He handed the letter to his son, the seal was unbroken.

"Take it. Burn it. Burn all of it. And then tell her that it is finished. All of it."

Paul went to speak, but William held up a hand.

"Do as I say. She will be your downfall boy, mark my words."

He took the letter and turned, walking right back out the door. He slammed the door and left it in his wake. What he needed was a drink and to get his mind off his parents. They were right. He had always been fast and loose with women. But this one was the rumored betrothed to his King. It was a dangerous place to be but he couldn't stop himself. Margaret was no wench to be bedded. He loved her, and wanted her to be his and only his. How she had entranced him he would never know, but he knew he could not burn her letter. Opening it, he felt the fear and worry melt away. He could almost hear her voice as he read the letter in his mind.

_Sir Paul,_

_I cannot write long, as I have much to do before the Advent celebrations begin, but I could not bear the thought of being so far removed from you as the Yuletide is upon us. Truly, you occupy my thoughts every waking hour, and my dreams as I sleep. This page boy is trusted, I have known him since childhood and he is loyal to my family. Send a reply through him, telling me where you would have me meet you. I would give you a gift, one I made myself. I await your word, with a heavy heart until you agree to accept it. Do not forsake me, good sir, as I am a woman and prone to spells of melancholy and hysteria. _

_Your Faithful Liege lady,_

_Margaret Sidney_

He laughed at the last line, a reminder of a jest they had shared at their last meeting. He held it to his lips and closed his eyes, imagining her here with him now. She had her own mind, not one ruled by ambition or greed or vanity. Margaret was just a woman to him, and one he could not bear to be without. He could not obey his father.

Walking out, past the stables and towards a local London tavern, he wished he had been born a Lord or even the son of a Knight or a rich merchant. He could have won her then, but how could he ever think to make her his? There was no way.

His Father was right. Margaret Sidney would be his downfall, and he would fall happily if only she would be his.


	11. Chapter 11

**KINGS AND PAWNS  
**_Chapter XI_

* * *

December 15th, 1555  
**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

_**I**_n the midst of all the chaos, Margaret had lost her shoe. As she hurried around the chamber Catherine laughed and placed one more pin in her shining blonde hair. They were all dressed lavishly, as Jane's Maids of Honor. Eleanor had received word just the night before that her wishes had been granted.

Her Father had allowed her to marry, and marry of her own free will at that. She would be the wife of Sir Brian Stapleton. A Knight in the King's service, and not as well off as her sisters' matches to Dukes and Viscounts and Earls but he loved her and was ready to provide a life for her. She danced around the room, tucking flowers in the other girls' hair.

Catherine was busy at the looking glass, assuring she looked ravishing for her own Fiancee. Her wedding would take place in only a few days. More excuse for the court to make merry. She turned, eying Elizabeth with an envious look. She quickly turned back, pinching at her cheeks. All of them wore silver and white, while Jane wore gold and Elizabeth wore crimson.

Margaret scurried around, looking for her slipper and watching as her hair escaped its pins. Elizabeth sat at her desk, shaking her head and laughing, writing something or other on a blank parchment. She wouldn't lead Jane down the aisle as her Ladies would. That was too close for comfort. She would sit (conveniently) next to the visiting Prince Eric. But she would concede her Brother no other victories. Seeing her walk slowly down the aisle would lead to much talk of marriage. She wanted nothing of the sort. At least, not with the Crown Prince of Sweden.

Jane, who had been near or in tears all morning, stood on a stool in the center of the room, with a retinue of seamstresses tending to her. Her mother watched with a keen eye. Her hair was left flowing, hidden under a veil of gold tinted gossamer silk. Her dress was sewn with pearls, diamonds and threads of pure gold. As sullen as she was, little Jane Grey looked bewitching in her wedding gown.

As time ticked on, Madge found her shoe, Catherine was torn away from the mirror, Eleanor shaken out of her reverie and Jane forced off her stool and towards her destiny. Elizabeth kissed her on the forehead, and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. But her face turned stern again rather quickly. She rushed out and the Lady Grey stayed behind to inspect the girls. She gave a cluck at Margaret, who quickly tried to straighten up. Finally they were ready. They left Elizabeth's chambers and started their journey towards the Chapel.

Jane's eyes were misting over and Margaret felt her heart ache for the girl. The whole Court was out in full force and the Palace had been decorated with gold silver and white along with the red and greens of Yuletide. Edward's Court was two days into the Twelve Nights of celebrating, and a wedding had only helped in raising the courtier's spirits even more.

But Jane's spirits were in despair. There was no way out. Margaret reached out and squeezed her hand. This was their lot, as women of high birth. They were only as good as the marriages they made. And as Dudley's son, Guildford's star was on the rise. Her parents were adamant about making a powerful match, especially considering the close ties they had to the royal family themselves.

"Come Jane." Cathering said, holding her other hand. "We shall be sister's. And I will treasure that always."

Jane nodded. She did love Catherine as a true friend and she knew that she should stop crying. This was as normal as breathing for them. Her mother had already entered the Chapel and would be sitting at the first bench with her family and Guildford. She shuddered. Eleanor stepped up, wrapping her arms around all three of them.

"Enter ye evil wenches. We have a whole court to bewitch."

They all laughed. Standing alone in the hall, they heard muttered conversation inside, the rustle of cloth and the charge of expectation. Margaret kissed Jane on the cheek and tapped on the door, as she had been told. They swung open just enough for the girls to enter. Eleanor was first, her head held high and a smile on her pretty features.

Catherine followed, her beauty making more than a few people gasp. Margaret hadn't even looked inside. She was far to scared to see all those eyes on her. She turned to Jane and gave a nod, hoping to give her strength. Then she entered.

The great windows of the Chapel let in so much sunlight, it seemed as if heaven itself had opened up for the glorious day. The Greys and Dudleys had spared no expense. The whole Chapel was decorated in golds and silvers and huge emblems depicting G and J intertwined in cursive love knots.

The floor was covered in gold dipped petals and small specks caught the light. She marvelled at the idea that jewels were being stepped on under her soft slippers. Flowers were everywhere, filling the room with vibrant fragrances. At the front stood Nicholas Ridley, Bishop of London, to wed the young couple.

But more than anything else, the King caught her eye. He sat above the pulpit, in his throne, watching the procession like a God himself. In the sunlight, he looked exquisite. His red gold hair shone brightly, and his eyes matched them. A smile crossed his handsome features as he found her eyes and he leaned forward eagerly, as if he had found some great treasure.

She wanted too look away, but she could not. Her face flushed crimson and her lips parted slightly as she took a little gasp of air. Her heart beat wildly against her chest and she felt like each step was a hundred yards. In this Church, walking towards the King in this slow gate, it seemed as if she were in her own wedding. Marching toward her groom. It surprised her that this thought did not frighten her at all.

Finally she reached the end and joined Eleanor and Catherine at the left side of the pulpit. Guildford and his Brothers stood opposite. He looked like a sullen child and Margaret noticed his Father shooting him a hard look. The congregation was so full, there were people standing by the back and bustling for standing room. Margaret made out her brothers form a few rows back, saw Elizabeth and the visiting Prince Eric. She spotted Mary and her Ladies a little further back, in their familiar black gowns.

The highest Lords and Ladies of the realm watched as the doors opened one last time and Jane entered. Margaret felt a flush of pride as her friend entered. She was dazzling and even though she was grieving this match she wore a brave smile. The plain Jane Grey was a beautiful woman at this moment.

The whole room went still and Eleanor gave Catherine a nudge, who in turn nudged Margaret. They giggled, pleased to see the reaction. As she neared, Guildford looked shocked and slightly scared. She smiled at him and bowed her head, the perfect vision of a submissive bride. She had fooled everyone. Her Mother sat in the front row, preening. Her daughter was the center of attention, and doing a fine job of keeping it.

As the vows began, Margaret found herself trying hard to keep her eyes off the King. He sat forward in his chair still, his eyes on her rather than the marriage. She turned quickly, blushing again and noticed many eyes in the crowd had seen this little exchange. She heard him chuckle and saw him lean back in the corner of her vision. As the Bishop's sermon came to a close and the couple vowed to be tied together forever a cheer rang out. The ceremony was over. It was time for the feast!

* * *

**_A_**s the night wore on, it seemed that the celebration would never cease. It was nearing midnight as Margaret took her last sip of wine, shaking her head and pushing the goblet away. At the Kings table, everyone had seemingly been invited and many were in the cups. Even Edward, who rarely drunk to excess. Margaret, emboldened by the wine, found herself watching him. She had been sat right next to him, with Elizabeth on his other side. In the beginning she had felt ashamed, as Mary had been pushed three seats down. She should not have preferential treatment over a Princess.

But as she'd drank, she'd thought less on that and more on her King. He was very handsome, well made and a wonderful Courtier. Smart, confident, able. He was a King and country could be proud of. And Margaret? She knew full well he favored her. Tonight she had thrown all her silly protests away. He was a King, yes, but he had found something in her that made him take a second glance.

She didn't care. Not now. She was wanted by the King and that was a heady feeling. He watched her, his eyes slightly glazed by all the libations. Laughter erupted at one of Robert Dudley's witty quips, but neither of them heard it. Edward leaned in, his lips very near her ear.

"You were the fairest Maiden in sight this day, Margaret." his hand ventured to her own, where he gently caressed her fingers "Would that you were the Bride, how glorious a sight you would be."

Madge gulped, a smile crossing her features and a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

"And who would Your Majesty deign I wed?" she giggled "For I would please my King, with an honorable choice in a husband."

She hiccuped and they both laughed. Edward laced his fingers with hers and was suddenly serious.

"I would suffer no other man to wed you Milady, for it would surely be the death of my heart, were someone else to have yours."

There was a terrible sadness in his eyes, a wanting unlike anything she had ever seen. He meant what he said and Margaret felt taken aback. She paused for a moment and squeezed his hand in turn.

"Then I shall not, for the Death of a King's heart is a heavy weight on a Maid's conscience."

He smiled at her and went to speak again, but was interrupted by the scraping of a chair. The hall silenced as the Lady Mary stood. She looked exhausted and incredibly sad. Edward had said nothing to her all night, while Elizabeth had been at his right hand. Margaret couldn't help but see the hurt in the woman's eyes. It must have been very familiar, to see Elizabeth worshiped and herself scorned. Her ladies stood as well and a few gasped. They had not asked the King for leave, as was expected at Edward's table.

"I bid you a goodnight Your Majesty." she said "And ask that my Ladies and I be allowed to retire."

Edward stared. He seemed angry, and Margaret felt him grip her hand tighter. She tensed. It had to be the wine, for Edward never appeared so strained. He allowed both Mary and Elizabeth extensive liberties and this was not something that would normally perturb him. Dudley watched from the other side of the table, a knowing smile growing on his face.

"Why wait for me to grant permission?" he said softly, his eyes narrowing "Do you in any other circumstance dear Sister?"

She looked tired and closed her eyes for a brief moment.

"I wished not to offend you Your Majesty, I only wanted to-"

"GO!" he said standing suddenly "You want no part in these celebrations Lady. You've made it quite clear you want nothing to do with the Court of Edward the Sixth. So leave off, and return to your Papist den."

He threw his napkin down and Mary startled.

"Do weddings offend you that much your Ladyship? Is it the idea of love or the knowledge that you have lost any chance at finding it yourself?"

Mary looked as if she had been pierced by a dagger. The hurt in her eyes was evident. Margaret felt her own heart break and she leaned forward, stopping herself from standing but directing Edward's attention away from his sister. She grabbed his hand and stared up at him pleadingly.

"My lord!" she whispered frantically "I beesech you..."

She didn't say anything else. To order a King about was dangerous business. Edward looked down at her and at her hand. He looked furious for a moment and then calmed. He sat, giving her hand a final squeeze before letting go of it.

"Yes Lady Mary, you may take your leave."

She shot Margaret a look of thanks and left the hall, with her ladies in tow. The room was silent, but Lady Grey quickly remedied that. The music began again and soon laughter had erupted. But no one forgot just how Edward had calmed at Margaret's behest. She had shown, truly, that she had the ear of a King. She could feel their stares and whispers. Margaret Sidney was, for better or worse, now a much more powerful player on the Chessboard.

"Your Majesty." she said as she noticed just how many eyes were on her "I must take leave as well. I have shamed myself and have overreached my-"

He laughed and shook his head. She was so worried now, so timid, when she had just shown so much bravery. She was afraid he was offended, when in truth she had given him exactly what he needed to proceed. She saw him more as a man than as a King, and what better quality to find in a wife? To love him as himself, and not as a sovereign?

"Fret not Lady Sidney. There was no shame in your actions. I am King, and I value your-"

She had heard the strange whizzing sound of the arrow gliding through the air, before it had hit its mark. In a split second, the King had been speaking to her, was now slumped back, his eyes wide with terror. All eyes turned to the direction the arrow came from and the sound of shouts and running could be heard in the corridor outside the Great Hall. As Margaret realized what had happened and saw the blood rushing from the King's chest she screamed.

It was a long scream of terror and suddenly hands were upon her, dragging her to the ground as chaos erupted. It was Henry, he held her to him and pushed past the writhing crowds. The confusion was mounting, as was the terror. Someone had attempted to kill the King! As he was rushed from the hall, all Margaret could see was the great stain of blood on his seat. She tried to breath, but no air would pass her lips. In a few short moments, amid the shouting and hustle of bodies, she felt the darkness take her.


	12. Chapter 12

**KINGS AND PAWNS  
**_Chapter XII_

* * *

December 16th, 1555  
**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

"_**E**_leanor!" Lady Knollys called into Elizabeth's chamber from the "Bring me the smelling salts! Hurry girl!"

Margaret startled. The sun was shining brightly now, into Elizabeth's Chambers. The last Madge could remember it had still been dark in the early hours of the morning as they had awaited news on the King. She tried to gather her wits as Eleanor rushed past, digging into the Lady Knolly's wooden chest. Eleanor looked startled, and Catherine and Jane were nowhere to be found. They had never come to Elizabeth's rooms.

"What news?"

Eleanor noticed she was awake but barely paid her mind. She rushed into the inner chamber and Margaret stood, dusting her gown off, before following. In a chair, slumped over and being held up by Kat Ashley, was Elizabeth. Margaret turned to Lady Knolly's, her eyes wide with confusion.

"The Lady Elizabeth was reading from her prayer book." she said stiffly, handing the salts to Kat "When news was brought that His Majesty has awakened."

Margaret felt her heart leap. He was alive, the assassin had not succeed. Elizabeth had been shocked at the news and had lost consciousness. Her face was ashen and her muscles limp. But Kat used the salts and she jolted up, her eyes foggy and unfocused. Her gown was askew and her hair stuck out in all different directions. She looked like a woman possessed.

"What hour is it?" Elizabeth asked softly, her voice harsh "I shall miss Matins to pray for the deliverance of our King."

Kat shook her head and rubbed a wet cloth over Elizabeth's face.

"You have prayed, and the Lord has answered. His Majesty has awakened. He lives."

Elizabeth's eyes squeezed shut and took a deep, shaky breath. She was relieved. The Lady Knollys nodded sharply and ushered the girls back into the outer chamber. She shut the door and they heard Kat humming to her. Margaret could imagine her gently rubbing her hand over Elizabeth's forehead and gently dabbing her temples with a cool cloth. She leaned against the wall, shaking her head.

"You let me slumber-"

Eleanor stuck a hand out to stop her and shook her head. She looked exhausted. Sitting in a chair, she cradled her head in her hands. Margaret wanted to confort her, but she had no idea where to begin, or what had transpired.

"You slept like the dead Madge. I cannot be judged for lack of effort."

She laughed slightly and stared up at her friend, tears in her eyes.

"After Henry left, Elizabeth was frantic. As the sun rose she wanted to go to the Chapel and pray for the King at Matins. But the guards Dudley assigned would let none enter of leave. Henry was livid. But you slept through it all, and the Lady Knollys assured you would be well cared for."

Margaret felt her stomach flip. No one had been allowed out.

"What news of the King? Of who tried to take his life?"

"No news. We've been sealed in here. We were only told that he has awakened and is no longer in mortal peril."

The silence after the sentence was not indicative of Margaret's mood. She felt her spirit soar, as any subject should at news of their sovereign's deliverance. But there was something else. The King's death would not only be a blow to her Brother and herself but to the court and the country. Who would rule? Who would contest said rule? It would all be detrimental to the peace and prosperity Edward had worked so hard to maintain.

"Then why are we restricted from coming and going?"

"They claim it is for the safety of Elizabeth." they made eye contact "But I fear it may be more than that my dear Margaret."

"Do not speak so Eleanor. She is his sister."

"And third in line for the throne!" she hissed "She and Mary may be in grave danger, and we would be foolish to deny it."

Margaret shook her head and stood, pacing the carpet back and forth. Her pallet was unmade and none of their serving women could be found. Their once gay room, where the four girls has spun secrets and tales, seemed forever changed. It echoed, empty and desolate. Eleanor looked near tears.

"Someone will come soon. They will take her."

"Surely not."

"Surely so Madge. The serving girl Phillipa told me that Mary was already taken into custody. It is only a matter of time until our own Lady is-"

Suddenly, a loud pounding resonated through the room. The door shook with it. Both girls stood and grabbed each other, feeling fear course through them. Eleanor looked ready to swoon, so Margaret squeezed her hand and pushed her back. Taking a deep breath, she took a shaky step towards the door. She had opened it hundreds of times before. For visitors, for messengers, for the King. Now, she knew what she would face on the other side would be much less familiar.

The guard stood in front of her in full uniform, his hand on his sword. Four more men stood behind him. They all wore matching livery. They were the Royal guard. Margaret felt her knees wobble and clutched the door for support. The lead guard held a parchment out and read it aloud.

"In the name of His Majesty, King Edward the Sixth, by God's Grace King of England and Ireland, and by order of his Privy Council the Lady Elizabeth is to be-"

"Arrested."

Her voice was steady and strong. Margaret spun about so see her. She was dressed in a simple dark blue, her hair flowing behind her back. The virginal Elizabeth, her eyes sad but determined. She looked almost otherworldly. Eleanor was watching her, in awe and fear. Kat and the Lady Knollys stood at either side of her, both had hard looks on their faces.

"I will go with no struggle." she said "I ask only that my Ladies be allowed to accompany me in my hour of tribulation."

The guards say no trouble in this. As the senior ladies, Kat and the Lady Knollys both readied themselves to go. But Margaret looked at Elizabeth, her eyes wide with dread. She couldn't believe what she was about to do.

"I would go in the stead of the Lady Knollys." she said, her voice squeaking with fear "You have your husband and your babes to think of Lady Catherine. I shall take your place."

The Lady Knollys looked grateful. Her daughter Leticia was only 12 and her son William 10. Her husband would be distraught to head of his beloved wife in the tower. She would be safe in Oxfordshire with her family if she left. Kat looked stubborn.

"I will attend my Lady."

Now it was Eleanor's turn to look relieved. She wanted nothing more but to run from the Chamber and find Brian. It was as if she'd been traveling a nightmare and might now finally wake. Margaret was insane to volunteer herself for the tower. It was no place for a genteel lady of the court to be. She stood, and kissed Madge's cheek before turning to Elizabeth. She kneeled and extended her hand, her face tilting up towards the woman.

"I will pray Milady. Every minute, every hour, for your deliverance."

Elizabeth nodded and looked away.

"Margaret." she said sternly "My cloak."

Margaret shook herself to attention and took the thick black cloak Elizabeth had hanging over the back of her desk chair. She brought it over and helped Kat Ashley place it on her shoulders. The guards couldn't see, but she was trembling.

As they were ushered out of the room, down the hall, and out of the castle Margaret felt her heart sink. Right now, what she wanted more than anything, was her mother's rosary. But she would not let that dishearten her. In her mind, she secretly prayed to the holy Virgin, as she once had as a child. In her heart, she knew they would be set free. For a moment, her mind wandered to a familiar face. Paul. Where was he? Would he hear of her arrest? Would he be afraid for her life? She hopes that he would pray. She hoped, many would pray and their pleas would be heard.

* * *

_**H**_enry was strangely calm, as the King lobbed an inkwell against the wall, watching it shatter with an emotionless face. He was unsure of what to do next. He had gone over it time and time again in his head. He had pushed her into this life, he had convinced her to remain loyal to Elizabeth. He had been ambitious and reaching, and now she was in the Tower, where grown men were said to be reduced to tears.

She was alone and it was his doing.

"And what have I done to deserve such? I harbor these villenessess, these women of ill repute who scheme and plot for my death?"

He was screaming,. Dudley stood in the corner, smug and satisfied. Edward had begun drifting from his sphere of influence lately, but the fear that had come with this assassination attempt had brought him back to Dudley's bosom once again. He had followed the Earl of Northumberland's orders to a t. Elizabeth and Mary were both in custody and the King was weak. He didn't know yet if they had any part in the plot, but he was glad that the opportunity had presented itself. And now Sir Henry's sister was caught up in the fray. Dudley had seen to it that Catherine was no where near Elizabeth when the arrests had happened. Sidney had not done the same and now he would suffer for his folly.

"I have allowed Papist faith and treacherous ambition poison my court. I have been blinded by my own eagerness for family and..."

Edward stopped, letting himself fall into a chair. The bandages were tight and uncomfortable around his shoulder chest and arm. The arrow hadn't reached his lungs, so his breathing wasn't impaired but the loss of blood and pain of the wound weakened him. He felt rage and regret and confusion ringing in his head. He turned to Henry, waiting for an answer.

"I am afraid." Henry said solemnly "That I have been the one to lead my sister astray. She had nothing to do with the attempt on Your Majesty's life, I know this to be true, but I have given her faulty council."

Edward looked up, his eyes wide.

"In what way?" Edward said "For she had accompanied my sister to the Tower, she is her ally now. Is that not the message that was to be sent."

Henry shook his head and his eyes met Edward's. They had been friends since their boyhoods, and Henry would always love his King. But he was letting fear cloud his judgment.

"She is loyal your Majesty. I told her to honor the Lady Elizabeth with her loyalty and her life, as I do to you, my King. She would never believe the Lady would commit such a crime. If she had any notion to suggest otherwise, she would never have accompanied her."

He looked skeptical, Henry pushed on.

"Madge would want to be there, to comfort a friend, nothing more. She would never have any part in any plot. I would vouch for her with my life."

"And you very well may have to."

The answer was short and stirred fear in Henry's heart. He stood, never turning his back on the King and backing his way out the door. As he left, he caught sight of Dudley leaning over Edward's chair whispering into his ear. The snake had found its way back into Eden.

Henry cursed the day he had brought his sister to Court, and vowed that as soon as she was cleared of any wrong doing, he would take her and Mary both from the King's palace, where intrigue could not harry them anymore...


	13. Chapter 13

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Any mention of a "Prayer Book Rebellion" in this or any future chapters comes from an actual historical even that took place in 1549. For this story's sake it didn't happen for six more years. Also, I just noticed I posted chapter 14 as chapter 13 by accident. I apoligize.

* * *

**KINGS AND PAWNS  
**_Chapter XIII _

* * *

December 19th, 1555  
**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

_**N**_ot once, in his entire life, had Robert Dudley ever felt this helpless. His Father was preening at his return to power, and seemed at ease. As his son, Robert should have felt the same, but all he could really think of was Elizabeth. He could imagine her, locked away in the tower like some Damsel in a silly Fairy tale. As a boy, growing up with the fiery, intelligent, beautiful young Princess he had gladly acted the part of the brave Chevalier on more than one occasion of make believe. Now, as a full grown man who could in fact wield a sword and ride in on a war steed, he had no idea how to save her.

He paced the floor the middle of that sunny winter morning as his Mother and Sister worked on Catherine's already extensive trousseau. Assassination or no assassination, she would marry young Henry Hastings or Duchess Jane Dudley would have someone's head on a pike.

Mary was still in confinement, and no one had told her of the news yet. It was too dangerous, this close to her birthing time. Especially since Margaret was said to be in the Tower alongside Elizabeth. No one had been charged, and it was obvious the girl had gone to serve Elizabeth, but the stigma of being hauled into the prison on the eve of the assassination attempt was a heavy one. Henry Sidney had even been denied permission to see his sister. Catherine seemed just as disturbed as her older Brother and her eyes kept flickering towards the door. Jane Grey, who sat on his mother's other side, kept closing her eyes in silent prayer.

Lounging on an ornate chair Guildford just seemed bored and could only muster up enough energy to stare spitefully at his new bride every few minutes. The two newly married youngsters had married only four days before, and on the night of their nuptials the King of England had been nearly killed. Not a very conducive environment for marital bliss. But then again, Guildford wouldn't have been happy to marry anyone. He was a spoiled child who griped about anything and everything. Now that he was squarely tucked away and married off, Catherine was the last of the Dudley brood to be single. John had married Anne Seymour, Ambrose had married Elizabeth Tailboys, Robert himself was married to that country bumpkin Amy Robsart back in Norfolk and Mary had married Henry Sidney. All advantageous matches, for the most part, and all under the watchful eye of their Father. The great Duke of Northumberland. Now, once again, the second most powerful man in the Kingdom.

"Where in God's name is he?" Robert stopped pacing and directed his anger at his serene mother. "The Privy Council will have surely finished already and we've had no news in at least-" "Robert, peace be still! This is very important business your Father attends to. He serves the King in his direst time of need. You must have patience!"

Guildford chuckled and stood from his cushioned stronghold, giving his older brother a withering glance. He hated Robert, as he hated all his elder brothers, as he always had.

"His only anguish is that he has heard no invitation to the Privy Council for himself. Ambrose accompanies Father at every turn and poor Robin is left to dither with the Maids."

He sneered and Robert turned, ignoring his brother's vitriol. It was true, Robert was loathe to be cooped up with the women like some sop. Guildford may have belonged here but Robert needed news. He needed to know that Elizabeth was safe and unharmed and...

The door to his mother's apartments swung open just as that though entered his head and in came his Father and Brother, both looking haggard. Quickly Jane was up tending to her Husband and son and Catherine was right behind them. Little Jane Grey did not move from her spot upon the floor.

"News? Father? What news?"

Dudley threw his head back and laughed, his bejeweled cap falling of and displaying a mass of graying black hair. Ambrose smiled too, sitting down at their Father's desk as he began writing a letter. Probably to John back in Northumberland. He was always well informed. Robert steamed, he'd yet to be answered.

"There is much more to this than we realized." John finally said after a long silence "The King's life had been in danger for at least a fortnight. An uprising in the South, lead by Cornishmen, has grown into somewhat of a...rebellion."

The women gasped but Robert nodded. He new of recent civil unrest in Cornwall. Since the Act of Uniformity in 1549, many English subjects had bristled at the idea of their Priests, and Masses and Sacraments being taken away. They could not understand the English Bible any better than they could a Latin one. To them, the reforms were heresy, and they had on more than one occasion caused trouble in the realm.

"The Catholics have rallied around them now, raising troops, writing propaganda. Some say they are backed by the Spanish, others say the French, some say both. All we know is that had the King been killed in this attempt, a trap was set to spring here, right in London."

"So why are the Lady Elizabeth and the Lady Mary under arrest if it is the rebellion that caused-"

"No one knows who it is really." Ambrose cut in "The assassin only gave a small bit of helpful information and as of right now we're not sure who gave the order to have the King executed. What we do know, is that if the King were killed without an heir Mary and Elizabeth would be figureheads for anyone plotting to get to the throne."

"Not to mention the Lady Mary's got her fingers in so many Catholic pies, that I wouldn't trust her anywhere BUT the Tower."

"With no proof of her involvement? And what of Elizabeth? A good Protestant Lady, as we all know!"

"It is for their safety as well my boy." John waved his younger son off "Don't go getting any lofty ideas. They are sisters to the King, they are not common prisoners."

"Then why are they to stand before the King's Magistrate on the morrow?"

His Father paused and fixed Robert with a look of pure annoyance. He should have been basking in he returning glory of Edward's favor, not explaining things to his ungrateful son. Yes, Edward's temper had seemed to get the best of him. It was obvious Mary and Elizabeth had no part in the attempt, but it had been the perfect occasion to cement Edward loyalty once again to his former Lord Protector. If there was no one else he could trust, who would the young King go to for guidance and support? John Dudley of course. He had full faith the Lady's would be pardoned of all wrong doing. But for now, their imprisonment was a step in the right direction. Especially Mary's.

"Robert please, sit, I'll fetch you a small ale and you can rest. You've been quite wound up all Morning."

"No Lady Mother, I must take my leave."

"And where is it you go Robin?" Guildford asked, his eyes slanted and mischievous.

He did not answer, because he did not know. He simply threw on his cloak and stormed out. His Father's ambition was powerful, but a King's wrath was more so. If Dudley had put it in Edward's head that his sisters could possibly commit treason against him, how safe could they really be?

* * *

"_**M**_y Mother spent her last night here, in the Tower."

Elizabeth's voice startled Margaret, who had been staring out the small window as the snow fell down softly from above. Kat was asleep in a small chair by the fire and Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, her long hair falling down around her shoulders. They had been here for three days now, and had only gotten a little news. Elizabeth had been strangely quiet all throughout, but Margaret had been relieved. This was no dungeon, they had not been tortured or thrown into a pit. The room was small, and maybe in a slight state of disrepair, but it was surely no prison.

"Queen Anne." Margaret said softly, imagining the small dark haired woman in this very room, awaiting her death. "Do not think of such things My Lady, it will only serve to trouble your heart."

Elizabeth shook her head, closing her eyes to Margaret.

"She was killed on charges brought up by my Father and his councilors. To be rid of her. Edward is so very much like my Father. Fear will cloud his judgment, he will be swayed by lesser men."

"You are his sister. You and Mary are his family. He-"

"He is King, he is frightened and he is our Father's son. Dudley will have no qualms with keeping Mary and I caged up indefinitely. He believes that I have somehow won Edward's favor and can influence him."

She threw her hands up in exasperation.

"For the first time I felt as if we were truly family. All my Father's years he served to do nothing but tear us apart. We were all here, together again, and I thought...I had hoped..."

It had been blissful. Edward had endured Mary's faith, had let them both remain unmarried and free. Recently Mary had been under scrutiny from her Brother but now it seemed that both sisters were in danger and had provoked Edward's suspicion. Elizabeth had already been questioned twice and they had heard nothing of Mary at all. Tomorrow, they would both stand before the King's Magistrate. Elizabeth said this probably meant banishment from court and nothing more. They would have to state their innocence and then would be sent away, as they often had been as children. Only Edward had been born legitimate and remained legitimate. None of this was new to Elizabeth.

"I would gladly go back to Hatfield. I would see the country and read my books in peace. I have had enough of intrigue, and of my brother's whims."

Margaret knew she was bluffing. Elizabeth loved being at court, being the center of the whole magnificent sphere. What she didn't like, was being afraid, and here in the Tower where her mother had been killed fear was a close companion.

"You should rest My Lady, you must be prepared for your audience in the morning."

Elizabeth nodded. She allowed Margaret to plait her hair and undress her. She tucked the bastard Princess into the covers and smother her hand over her forehead as Kat often did. Soon, Elizabeth's snores joined her nurse's and Margaret was left alone in their small chamber.

She walked to the window again, her breath fogging as she stared out at the Winter landscape. The world looked desolate, lonely and cold. She wondered where Henry was, if he had even heard of her following Elizabeth into the Tower. She wondered how Mary fared and how Jane was adjusting to married life. She thought of Edward, of the blood she'd seen staining his chair and of her abject fear that the King of England would indeed die.

Finally she thought of Paul. Somehow, even his name made her forget her surroundings. Fear and worry and nervousness disappeared. Instead she thought of his smile, his touch, his kiss. It was wrong, and she knew Henry would never allow it, but she couldn't help herself. The idea of marrying a peasant stable hand was more pleasing to her than the King of England? How in God's name did that make any sense?

_Now don't go getting any ideas. No one said you were going to marry the King, you silly fool._

That was true. The idea was a little far reaching. In all honesty Edward probably planned on wooing her, bedding her and then marrying her off to someone that would suit a King's Mistress. It was a common arrangement, one that many a King had pulled off before. If she resisted, she could incur his wrath. If she agreed...

No. That was beyond the pale. She would not compromise herself for advancement. If it was a Mistress Edward wanted her would find her elsewhere, regardless of what Henry or anyone else said. If anyone persisted she would insist on going back to Croxden, where she had been before this whole mess had started.

Suddenly, the idea of going back to the country seemed the best fit. There she would have none of the perils of court, even if she had to give up all of the passions. No more balls or masques or banquets, but also no more intrigues and rumors and danger. No more King Edward, no more Paul, no more of her brother's horrid fits of temper. Things would go back to normal.

But in her heart of hearts Margaret knew that she couldn't, not now. She was Lot's wife and leaving Sodom would destroy her. The thought saddened her. Gone was the simple Margaret who had been at peace with her simple life. Now what was she? Where did she belong? Slowly, she backed away from the window and returned to the fire. Opening up Elizabeth's bible she read, trying her best to drown out the confusing thoughts and awaiting the next morning when they would be let out of this dreadful place...hopefully.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **This chapter was already posted earlier as chapter 13, I apoligize!

**KINGS AND PAWNS  
**_Chapter XIV_

* * *

December 20th, 1555  
**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

"**S**peak plainly. Leave no room for doubt, Northumberland knows the wind is out of his sails but he's wound some of them up so desperately that they are afflicted still with the greatest doubts as to your involvement."

Elizabeth was no longer pale and anxious. Margaret had witnessed a transformation in her. Now as they stood in the neat office of the Secretary William Cecil, she stood straight backed and poised. Dressed in a demure gray and maroon dress, her hair hung down her back and her hands were placed on her lap. Kat and Margaret were dressed in simple matching white gowns. None of them wore jewelry. Simplicity, that was what Elizabeth had insisted on. Modesty, piety, submission. Margaret herself felt better. Being out of the tower and back inside the familiar palace had done wonders for her disposition. It didn't hurt that Cecil was married to Mildred Cooke either, a familiar face in a sea of unfamiliar men.

Mildred was a first cousin of Sir William Fitzwilliam, Margaret's Brother in law. William had married Anne, her older sister twelve years prior and they had five children together. Cecil was a stern, serious, learned man who had always seemed to have Elizabeth's best interest at heart. His wife was a woman Margaret looked up to, and who she enjoyed talking to whenever she could. Cecil knew this, and often gifted Madge with a rare smile. This morning, he had no smiles to spare.

"Have they any real suspects at this time?" Elizabeth was staring off at the wall, her mind in other places. "For if you're to be believed neither Mary nor I shall be charged with any crime."

Cecil sighed, shooting Elizabeth a familiar disdainful look. It was true, he disliked Dudley, he always had. But the man was powerful, even more so with the recent weakness the King had shown since the attempt on his life. He wanted power, to be the power behind the throne. Elizabeth and Mary were Edward's heirs until he had a child and the tyrant imagined them a threat to his rule. Cecil had deigned the quick marriage of his son to the Grey girl was a blatant power grab. She had legitimate ties to the Royal bloodline and was in line to inherit. He may not have been able to get Elizabeth and Mary beheaded this time, but tarnishing their images was still very, very possible.

"Correct my Lady. Neither you nor your sister will be charged or arrested. But what you also must understand is that you are to be banished from this court on Dudley's counsel to the King. I have heard it said both of you are to be sent away. You must speak your peace before you quit Greenwich all together."

Margaret watched as they talked. She was anxious to be free of all this. The first thing she would do is go to see Mary, and inevitably Henry. She would mend whatever rift had come between them and tell him her plan to leave court. Maybe not to Croxden, so far from Court but to install her in one of their other properties. Maybe Penhurst, where she would be farther from the chaos, if only for awhile. Somewhere she could be at peace, if but for a moment.

Cecil turned to her as she mused, his eyebrow cocked. He was not a handsome man, but he had a calm dignified air that made him all the more attractive. He was a Father himself and an avid statesman. He had only recently been elevated to Chancellor of the Order of the Garter but his star at court was said to be on the rise. He was the first person Elizabeth had requested to see upon her release from the Tower. He had been granted permission from the King to aide Elizabeth before her hearing. Mary was speaking to her own advisers as well, more proof that Edward had no real intention of sentencing them to anything harsher than banishment.

Margaret, however, was in no real danger and for that he was grateful. She was family by marriage to his wife and Mildred cherished her family. What his wife cherished, so did William and he was well aware of the girl's precarious position. Henry Sidney, a close friend of the King, was the girl's primary guardian and chances were if Edward the Sixth had his mind set to it she would be in his bed, as a wife or a mistress.

The opinion of most of his courtiers was that he would wed her. It had been romanticized. The Edward before him had his Elizabeth Woodville, and a commoner bride was no longer such a ludicrous notion. The girl had no land, no titles, and her dowry was in no way appropriate for a royal marriage. Of course those obstacles could be moved if the King so inclined. But with the advancements made by Dudley since the attack on the King, Edward's recent independent streak seemed to have been cut short. If Dudley didn't approve of the match, little Margaret stood no chance at getting a King for a bridegroom.

"Mistress Sidney and Mistress Ashby will enter with us. Afterward I've been instructed by your sister to take you to the Lady Fitzwilliam's home for supper."

Kat nodded and Margaret looked up, locking eyes with Elizabeth. The Princess nodded and looked down again at her long, elegant hands. Madge knew Elizabeth was frightened but fought not to show it. She would go and support her Lady, her friend. She would see the King for the first time since the night of Jane's wedding. Would he be angry with her? Would his fascination remain? All would be seen shortly.

They left Cecil's quarters and made their way to where the Magistrate had gathered in a hastily arranged hall of the Palace. Most of the court was about the Palace today, dressed in their finest as if they were attending a masque or a feast of some sort. As they neared the hall, they spotted Mary and _all_ of her ladies heading towards their direction. As they met, Mary and Elizabeth stopped and Elizabeth took Mary's arm in her own kneeling to her sister with dramatic flourish. Mary joined in, leaning down to kiss her younger sister on the forehead. Cecil cringed. Obviously the women were putting on quite the show and it seemed to have worked. All around them audible gasps and whispers could be heard.

Then they entered, Mary at the forefront Elizabeth right behind her. Inside, the rest of the court was excluded. Only a handful were Present, including the King. He sat in the midst of his Magistrate, his council presiding as well. Margaret spotted him immediately. He was leaned forward, his posture stiff and his eyes cold. He still looked majestic, dressed sumptuously and with the aura of a powerful man. The most powerful man in England at that, and unscathed by the attack on his life. Strong and capable, and somehow different. His brows were knit, his visage aged. He looked haunted, but he also looked determined.

Mary stood before the gathering body her head held high. Margaret kept turning from her to the King. Edward was watching his sister intently, his bejeweled fingers steepled in front of his face. As she gazed at him, his eyes caught hers and his bearing changed. His face softened, his eyes widened. Then he masked this sudden change with a frown, and returned to watching Mary.

The Magistrate made her swear upon a bible to answer the questions truthfully. Margaret saw Mary hesitate before she placed her hand on the English translated book, but she did touch the elaborate cover and she recited the Oath. They asked her questions, questions about Mary of Guise about the King of France, the Holy Roman Emperor and the Pope. They asked her about her faith and her masses and her allegiance to her brother. She answered them all perfectly, her head held high and her bearing regal. When they were finished, Mary fixed her brother with a powerful look and spoke.

"My Lords, I know not why I have been brought before your council this morning. I know only that whatever treason you have found out, know that it has not been done by my hand. My Father, King Henry the eighth of blessed memory dictated the succession of his Heirs and my brother, the sovereign King of all of England and the heirs of his body will reign in this realm. Tudors, as I am a Tudor and as our King is a Tudor. I am no traitor to that name. Never have I been and God curse the man who deigns that I ever would dare to be."

The room was silent. Beside Margaret Elizabeth tensed. She turned to look at her and saw her jaw set. Mary nodded toward Edward and made a sweeping curtsy. The King, still and silent, nodded slightly and without a word Mary was dismissed from the Hall. She and her ladies were lead out and Margaret only hoped that before she was taken to Beaulieu that she would get a chance to say her farewells. She genuinely had come to care for Mary, in the time that she had spent with the woman. Elizabeth was called before the stern men next. Margaret squeezed her hand and like a great Lady she granted Madge with a serene smile.

As she stood before her brother and his magistrate she looked radiant. The sun shown down through the high windows and illuminated her red gold hair, hair so much like her Father that it was almost impossible to deny the resemblance. Elizabeth's youth was a sharp contrast to Mary's thirty nine years. She was not asked about the French, or the Spanish or the Holy Roman Emperor. She was not involved in Catholic conspiracy or threat. It was known throughout the land that she was a good Protestant, like her Mother, and that she and Edward tended to always agree on matters of religion and theology.

Instead, they asked strange questions about her Howard relatives and other Lords of the realm. Had they conspired to replace her on her brother's throne? Had they planned a secret marriage behind the King's back? It was absolutely ridiculous. Elizabeth, who had become the belle of her brother's court hadn't been right under his nose committing treason. The men she was questioned about being connected with were all known enemies and rivals of John Dudley. Margaret gripped the arm of her wooden chair. Yet another show of Northumberland's power. What ludicrous ideas had he planted in Edward's head about his sister's? God only knew.

Elizabeth made Margaret proud. She answered all the questions with confidence and poise. But unlike Mary she made no show or speech. She kept her eyes averted and her stance humble. When she did speak, it was in hushed tones, barely audible to her audience.

"I leave the judgment of my innocence to the conscience of my King and his councilors. I only do wish that His Majesty would know the love and honor I owe him as my own flesh, and above all as my Sovereign."

Edward's face softened a bit more then it had with Mary, but still Elizabeth was lead out of the hall, her fate still a mystery. As Margaret stood to follow, Cecil put a hand on her shoulder and sat her back down. Elizabeth did not look back, but left arm in arm with Kat, her head held high. Margaret felt that same fear she had while waiting in the Tower. Soon the Magistrate had convened and all the men had left the hall as well. Watching the sun shine through the high windows she realized the room was now empty but for her and William.

"Sir-"

He held a hand out and shook his head slightly.

"Hush child. A moment more."

Then there was the audible sound of a door opening behind them. Margaret turned and instantly froze as Edward made his way towards where she was seated. Bursting up, she hurriedly curtsied, looking at the floor for much longer than was necessary. When she was upright again, he stood before her with his feet planted slightly apart and his hands clasped behind his back. Tall and stately as always, she could only see the stiffness of his shoulder now that he'd neared. His face was still slightly pale, and he looked just as stern and aged as he had while presiding over his sister's testimonies.

He didn't speak. Madge felt her cheeks flush with heat. As she went to speak he turned his head sharply towards William.

"Cecil, leave us, Mistress Sidney will be dismissed shortly. I've assured Henry you will have her escorted to Lord Fitzwilliam's manor in an expedient fashion."

His voice was cold, regal, untouchable. So unlike the Edward she'd spent those private meals with, or who she'd danced so close to, or who had professed his passion for her not so many moons ago. She felt her stomach knot as dread filled her. She had displeased this man, God's anointed and her rightful King.

"Your Majesty." what more could she say. Her eyes remained downcast and he took a step closer. The vastness of the hall of inconsequential. In this moment they were alone, in a very small space.

"We're you frightened?"

She let a slow breath out and nodded her head in assent. She wanted to tell him that she was even more so now. Gone was the carefree feeling the wine had produced the last time she'd been this close to him. That night the idea of being chosen by a King had seemed like the sweetest thrill. Now she felt as she did when he had first begun to show her notice. She was a small animal in the face of the hunter. He had all the power in the world and who was she in the scheme of things?

"Well speak up. They say it was brave, the way you followed her into the Tower on the day of your arrest. That your head was high and your countenance unperturbed."

Suddenly she was upset. Her fists tightened and fear began to face behind indignation. He was angry at her, but why? What had she done to deserve his scorn?

"Only to instill strength in my Lady Elizabeth sire."

"Do you believe her, that she had nothing to do with the attempt on my life?"

"I need not _believe_ her when I know truly that she played no hand in it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Faith Your Majesty, and the knowledge that she is your sister and a loyal subject."

He was silent again and began pacing, right in front of her, looking slightly less angry than before. A flicker of worry crossed his features and she felt herself soften. He was still a youth of eighteen, and only a few days before he had been facing his own mortality. It couldn't have helped that Dudley was doing everything he could to twist the King's fear to his advantage.

"There is no loyalty when it comes to a King's throne. Even if she had naught to do with it, she could someday be involved in any number of plots against me. She and Mary both."

"You truly fear them? Think that they wish you dead? You have ruled for eight goodly years without so much as a revolt or an uprising. Now that you face a threat you cannot let those who would wish to weaken you with fear cloud your judgment. Christ himself told us to have no fear."

Edward paused, looking at her for a slight moment, and then continued his repeated trek across the small bit of floor he was pacing on. She continued.

"My Father used to say that silver tongues will stir up troubles and truthful ones will soothe them."

He smiled. He could remember Sir Sidney telling him the same thing. But even louder was Dudley's voice of caution. Wolves in sheep's clothing, all looking to take what was rightfully his, to turn the country over to vice or sell them off to Rome. To overturn all of his Father's work and his wishes. Then again, had his fear truly clouded his judgment? He had recently decided he no longer needed to heed Dudley's guidance so closely. But who could he trust? Dudley had saved him from his voracious Uncle, from the threat to his rule the Seymours had represented.

"Do you speak the truth Margaret? Can I trust you truly? For I will trust you with my life if only you tell me that I may do so without fear."

"There is always fear when trusting oneself to another. What you must do, My Lord, is have faith. As I have in you."

Edward suddenly stopped and stepped forward. He wrapped his arms about her, locking her in a surprisingly tight embrace. Her face fit into the crook of his neck and she smelled his scent deeply. Clean and strong, she closed her eyes and for the first time she didn't think of anyone else. Not Paul or her Brother or Elizabeth or Mary. All she could feel was the arms of a man who had begun to lay his soul bare to her. He was vulnerable, in a time where being vulnerable could mean his death. She placed a hand on his cheek and felt a small bit of stubble. He closed his eyes and nuzzled closer to her. He sighed.

"I have made a grave mistake Mistress Margaret. I must pray and repent."

He stepped back and nodded his head briskly.

"Would it be impudent of me to assume you will join me for the Archbishop's sermon on the Sabbath?"

"Not at all Your Majesty, it would me an honor."

She curtsied and he gave her one last nod of approval before making his own way from the hall. She was left alone as the door slammed and suddenly she felt as if the huge place was too small. She couldn't breathe. Suddenly she launched forward into a run, needing to leave, needing to find Henry and to find peace. As she burst through the doors she nearly toppled, running smack dab into Sir Cecil who stumbled backward to the ground.

"Decorum Margaret! A lady would never be seen _running _in public, much less in the presence of a King."

"Edward is gone, he would not have seen-"

"His Majesty." he said in a warning tone "Never address his by his Christian name, girl. You're not his Bride yet, despite all the gossip. Come, we've got to get you dressed, we will be attending dinner at your sister's home if you haven't forgotten. They are all quite excited to see you. Even Mildred tore herself away from her books to see you. Let us depart."

As they left she mused on his words. Bride. To a King. That thought had occupied her thoughts so much recently. And Paul had sent her no word, or he'd been unable to. She had no idea if he would still feel the same, or if he ever really felt the same. What she did know is that second to her family, the stable hand Paul Bingham was the person she wanted to see most, after all that had happened.

What she didn't know, is if it was wise to feel that way. But her mind was already made out as she entered Sir Cecil's carriage. She'd see him as soon as she could. What else could she do? Even through all this, he still burned in her mind and she could not deny him.

Would not.


	15. Chapter 15

**KINGS AND PAWNS  
**_Chapter XV _

* * *

December 20th, 1555  
**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

The news had spread across the palace like wildfire. From the highest nobleman to the lowest stable hand, everyone heard that the King's sisters had been found innocent of any crimes against their brother. Of course the attempt on the King's life still hung over all their heads, an unwelcome stain on the Yuletide festivities, but as Paul's mother served her son his afternoon meal she seemed optimistic.

"No other King in Europe could come through such an ordeal as our Edward! It was truly God's will that he pass through this tribulation unscathed! Why-"

"Where is Father? He was not at the stables the whole day long and now he neglects his daily board?" the young man asked, in no rush to hear any more of her talk.

His Mother frowned and quickly stepped towards the hearth, keeping her eyes averted. Anne had watched her husband leave before the sun had risen and he had not returned for his own lunch. William had been restless and fretful lately and his fighting with Paul had become nearly unbearable. The news of the Princess Elizabeth's imprisonment and that of her woman Margaret Sidney had soothed his worried for a few days but now that she was released he feared his son would soon fall to folly.

"I would not know. He kept no counsel with me this morn. You say he wasn't at his post at all?"

"No, but the whole palace is in such disarray I don't think he was missed. The Magistrate meeting held everyone in sway."

Anne shrugged and dusted her hands off on her skirts. She had her own work to do and her husband's secrecy wasn't something that pleased her. She fixed her eldest son with a look. Her youngest was out and about causing the mischief young boys often did. What mischief Paul planned on getting into she didn't yet know.

"Did tit now? Even you I suppose?"

He held up a hand.

"I know Father's wishes. I have no business in Mistress Sidney's affairs. I neglected to respond to any of her letters too dear Mother. I doubt the lowly stable hand is even on her mind anymore."

"From the looks of that letter it'll take more than a few nights in the Tower to make her forget you."

She said so with motherly pride. Paul was a handsome lad, a charismatic boy who would make a good catch for any honest London girl. Margaret Sidney was no honest London lass. He laughed and pinched his mother's rosy cheek.

"I have moved onto greener pastures Milady. Its about time I got serious and begat you a few grandchildren I suppose."

Any talk of marriage and children always soother his Mother and the rest of the meal was peaceful for Paul. As he left, telling Anne that he was returning to his own post at the stables he couldn't help but imagine that very picture.

_Margaret, her long auburn hair pulled back, her brow lightly misted with sweat. Her smile broad, her countenance peaceful, and a babe in her arms swaddled in clean linen. Her child, his child; their child…_

As he made a right turn towards the palace and away from the stables he couldn't help the sweet, warm feeling that filled his veins. He had had his fair share of maids. They were itches, simple itches that simply needed scratching. Usually he lost them just as quickly as he'd found them, but this one haunted him. Margaret was much, much more than an itch. She was an inferno in his veins; a dull fire that burned and cleansed. One that was as blissful as it was painful.

He had to see her.

There was quickness in his step that led him through the familiar halls and pathways of Greenwich at an impressive speed. He knew where she would be now, and he hoped his information (gotten through charming one of her chamber women) was correct.

Then, as if appearing by magic, there she was.

She was dressed demurely, in all white with her long hair flowing freely around her face. She walked behind a stern faced, somberly dressed man. Paul knew who he was. Sir William Cecil, the Cambridge man and newly minted Chancellor. He aided the young lady into a litter, where she was obviously alone, and stepped off a few paces to speak with one of his own men.

Taking his one chance Paul ran towards the opposite side of the carriage. There, only a few inches from him, did she sit. She was cold, wrapped in a thick velvet and fur cloak. In the cold he shivered but her face warmed him from within.

"Margaret."

Her name on his lips sounded like a choir of angels. She turned, and her own eyes lit at the sight of him. They filled with a thin mist of tears and she let out a small sigh. He pulled back the velvet curtain that separated them and felt her warm breath on the skin of his hand. She looked radiant, resplendent. He felt his fingertips caress her cheek but could not speak.

"Paul."

His own name, from her lips, sounded even more heavenly than hers from his. He wanted to pull her through the window and run, as fast as he could. Wherever they went her would protect her, provide for her…

What nonsense.

"Quick, we haven't time. Where will you meet me? Where can I see you again?"

The words were out before he'd had time to review them. Her face flushed and she sputtered, looking as Sir Cecil mounted his horse. They were moving, Paul followed, trying his best not to be seen. But soon that would become impossible.

"I am to go to my sister's home, in London. Hendon House. Can you come? We will be able to see one another there. Say you will come."

"Expect me tonight. I swear upon my honor."

She took his hand and held it to her lips for a brief second before the horse really began to trot. With one final lash of his whip the driver lead the litter away and Paul tried his best to duck out of sight. Hendon House, home of the Sherriff of London.

It was on Bread Street, that much he knew. His love awaited him there. He could barely contain his joy as he returned to the stables.

* * *

December 20th, 1555 **HENDON HOUSE, LONDON**

"Oh my darling girl. Oh sweet Madge, you are so thin. Having you cadged up in the tower like some common-"

"Anne!"

Margaret looked up at her sister and then back towards Cecil with wide eyes. Anne was unperturbed. There she stood, in a handsome blue and white gown. Her husband, it seemed, was doing quite well for himself. Their home was well furnished and the jewels at her throat looked quite expensive.

Her sister looked beautiful. At thirty, she was the spitting image of their Mother, her namesake. Behind her, huddled by the door were her equally beautiful offspring.

William, the eldest at eleven, was dark haired and sallow skinned like his Father but had an earnest face and a ready smile. Anne and Phillipa were six and four, while the little John was only a year. He tottered away from his sister and towards this strange woman.

"Bool? Bool?"

Madge held a hand in front of her mouth, stifling a laugh.

"He means 'who' dearest Margaret." Anne leaned down and scooped him into her arms, pointing at her sister she smiled "It is your Aunt Margaret John. Say hello!"

Her head had just been filled with thoughts of Paul, hopes that he would in fact come and find her at her sister's home. Now as she was introduced to all her nieces and nephews her thoughts turned to family. Lucy was there as well with her husband, the lawyer Sir James Harrington. Their sons John and James were there as well. At sixteen and thirteen they stayed a bit farther away from their younger cousins.

Sir Cecil's wife Mildred weas present as well, having no children yet from her marriage to William. Mildred wrapped Margaret into her arms and offered her a soft kiss on the forehead. Margaret closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. She could smell food and the house was full of people who loved her. Away from court, it seemed a miracle.

"Where is Henry? Where is Francis?" Anne asked as they sat down to eat "I had expected them both."

"Henry is coming." said Sir Cecil "He went to visit with his wife and to fetch young master Phillip."

Margaret beamed. She wiped her face with a soft linen cloth and turned towards her sisters.

"And Francis has left for Sussex. She bid me a swift goodbye before…"

She paused. Everyone froze. It had been right before Jane's wedding and the King's near death. She had been unable to inform the rest of the family as Francis had asked. She wondered if her sister knew of what had befallen her. The Duke of Sussex was still at court, surely he would have written to her.

"Ah yes," Sir Fitzwilliam intercepted "Before the Lady Jane's wedding. I heard that was quite the event. How are the seasonal celebrations at the palace dear sister?"

Madge was grateful for the diversion. She easily entertained the table with her tales of the feasts and masques. Her sister's watched her, amazed that their sheltered little Madge had bloomed into such a sophisticated little court flower. They had thought that Francis landing an honest to goodness Duke was a step up for their family. Now, now their hopes really did rest on Madge's shoulder. Lands, titles, dowries, endowments, royal licenses. The family of a Queen consort was in line for many perks. But there was no talk of marriage to the King, Margaret had gone through enough and Henry had warned most of them that she was in no mood to discuss it. Madge didn't know that, but she was especially grateful not to have to hear about it on that night.

Then, as desert came, they all began trading stories of their own past holidays. Soon, it seemed, the night had whittled away to nothing as the clock struck ten. Still Henry had not come. Margaret felt sadness fill her when she realized he would not be coming this night. She had so hoped to see him, to set things right.

"Smile dearest. He will come to fetch you in the morning; Anne has your room made up right next to mine. Come, you must be tired."

The rest of them had retired to play cards after the children were put to bed. Margaret was not tired, but she would take the excuse to leave their company. Lucy left too and a maid servant named Elaine helped her undress. As she slipped the nightshift over Madge's shoulders she leaned forward, her black hair shining in the firelight.

"I have a message for you Mistress."

The words were so quiet Margaret barely heard. As she turned to question the girl she slipped a small piece of paper into her hand and bowed her way out. Margaret opened it and her heart began to race.

"_The Buttery, at midnight, my liege lady."_

The message was clear. Paul was here and he meant to meet her in the buttery at twelve. Margaret felt her whole body begin to heat up, her feet barely touching the ground as she raced to the bed. The fire crackled merrily and she crawled beneath the covers, clutching the little sheet of paper to her breast. As the hour dragged on, she heard Lucy enter her own chamber and soon it seemed the house was quiet. Sitting up, she reached for the heavy silk robe laid out for the morning. Pulling it over her shift she quickly tied it and headed for the door.

Elaine was sleeping on a pallet in the hall and snored slightly in the darkness. Margaret crept past her, the dark hall creaking slightly beneath her feet. No one stirred, it seemed the house was asleep for the night. She rushed towards the buttery as quickly as she could and as she neared she listened for the chime of the clock in the great hall. Twelve of them rang out and she took a deep breath, pushing the heavy wooden door back. Inside, casks of wine and kegs of ale sat silently in darkness. The darkness was only cleared by a small candle, near the door that lead into the kitchens. In the candlelight, she could make out Paul's shape.

Suddenly she was frightened, no longer rushing towards him as she had been. He turned, and his eyes caught hers, ablaze in the candlelight with his thick, fair hair hanging over his brow. He wore a plain, rough, white shirt and black breeches. He was stunning, there only a few feet from her. He wore none of Edward's finery but had his own exquisite majesty that made her suck in a chilly breath. As she took a step forward she saw his face break out into a breaming smile and she felt her bones turn to jelly. He stepped forward as well, closing the remaining gap between them. He did not touch her, only stood dangerously close. She could smell him, feel the warmth radiating from his body. Her eyes closed, and she breathed in deeply.

"I was unsure if you would come. I hoped…."

The words seemed to break the spell. At once his hands were on her. Strong hands, one wrapped around her waist, the out clutching at her elbow. She looked up at him, seeing the frenzy in his face and she smiled herself.

"Margaret, my brave girl. You followed the Princess into the Tower? Why?"

"She is my friend." She whispered, her own hands reaching up to encircle his neck. One hand reached for his mass of hair, hopelessly tangling her fingers within. He breathed against her forehead, his strong arms pressing her close to him all the while. "I would follow her wherever it was asked of me."

He looked down at her, his eyes filled with amusement. Loyalty, the girl was loyal. That was an honorable trait. This was no flighty, fair weathered wench. She leaned into him, her lips grazing the skin between his collarbone and his neck. They swayed against each other, drunk off of their proximity to each other's bodies.

"I feared for you, I returned your messenger and got no response. Soon I heard the news, and I wondered if I would ever…"

"Sh…" she saw the fear and anger well up again on his face and felt guilt that she had caused him such pain. He trembled as he held her and she looked up at him "The King would never-"

Those words were enough to stop his trembling. His face, so expressive only moments before seemed to turn to stone. The warmth of his embrace all but fled as he gently held her away from him. He examined her in the candle light. Mention of the King, King Edward, the man who had imprisoned her, the man who ruled them all. He took a step back, Margaret felt her heart sink.

"I had nearly forgotten, the fool that I am."

Madge let out a small cry and covered her mouth. He did not react. Suddenly this meeting seemed ill timed and ill fated. Edward. How could she have forgotten? Leaving his prescence her thoughts had turned to Paul. Paul, who she was beginning to believe that she loved. But what did love matter to her? As she knew it her marriage was not her decision and her last discussion with Henry had lead her to believe that Edward really did mean to make her his bride. Had this ordeal changed his mind? She was unsure. The only thing she knew was that she wanted Paul's arms around her again. She took a step forward.

"You must know, none of it is my choice. Paul I have come to…I believe that you have bewitched me somehow. In waking, in sleep you haunt me. And what do I know of you? Of your family? Of your faith or your convictions? I know only this-"

Another step and another. He did not meet her eyes, but he did not retreat either. Taking his face in her hands she forced their eyes to meet. His seemed misted over with tears, but his jaw was firmly set. Hard, unmoving. She gently kissed along it, his stubble tickling her lips as she did so.

"I know only that whatever man you may be, I yearn for your presence in my life. Do you believe me?"

Slowly, painfully, he leaned down. Lifting her chin with his finger he raised her face to his and gently kissed her lips. She felt him pull her close and spread her hands against his broad chest. As they embraced the candle sputtered and nearly went out. In the deeper darkness he leaned back, falling into a pile of sackcloth and rushes. Madge laughed as they plummeted to the floor, and felt the vibrations of his own laughter underneath his fingers. In total darkness he kissed her, his hands exploring the contours of her body over the thin material of his night shift and robe. She shivered, her mind melting away at his touch.

"What are we to do Margaret? What would you ask of me?"

They paused. Looking into his eyes she felt a moment of panic. She could not do without him, but Edward….if Edward knew about this…

"He'd have our heads if he knew. Both of us."

He nodded solemnly.

"This is dangerous Madge. What you are doing is treason. I cannot be your downfall."

"Or I yours!"

"Oh you foolish woman. What man would not rejoice in your love? I'd take death gladly if only-"

"I'll hear no talk of death!" she sat up, her eyes wide and her hair sticking out every which way "Speak not of it. I've only just found you, I'd not trade this for the world."

"Not for a cornation and a crown?"

She fixed him with a humorous look.

"What common English Queen has lived a happy life Paul? Elizabeth Woodville? Anne Boleyn? Katherine Howard? Jane Seymour?"

He began to speak and she put a finger to his lips.

"I shall refuse him. I shall tell him I have entered into a pre contract with the man I love."

"Refuse the King? For a stable boy? It isn't done, no one would allow you to!"

"Allow me to? I shall do as I please. They left me to rot in the country and now that I've been noticed by the King they all suddenly have an interest in my fate? Fie! I'll have none of it. I'll wear no crown!"

"Fie you say? Surely you've gone mad Margaret."

"Would you have me marry him?" she huffed "Is that what you want? To call me your Queen rather than your wife?"

He took a deep breath in. His wife, this beautiful creature. He had been with so many maids, not one had he ever imagined wedding as well as bedding. He'd yet to bed the girl and he could see her beside him at the altar with no fear.

"I'd rather face a thousand hells milady."

"Then no more talk of the King. I have decided."

He laughed and she laughed and he held her tightly to him. After a few moments her breathing evened out and she was asleep. He would let her, for a while, before he woke her and sent her back to her chambers. Her words were wonderful, the ideas grand, but a sense of dread filled him. He knew not if he'd ever get the chance to hold her again. He had heard the rumors. As much as she said she loved him, what did he really have to offer? And how could they truly escape the desires of their King?

It didn't seem possible.


	16. Chapter 16

**KINGS AND PAWNS**_  
Chapter XV_

* * *

December 23nd, 1555  
**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

"_**S**_he's smitten you know. She wouldn't admit it to a living soul, but the girl is positively radiant. The miracle of the marriage bed Margaret, see it in all its glory."

Margaret turned to look at Catherine Dudley who was quite radiant herself in a bright sapphire gown and frowned.

"Jane? You say the Lady Jane Grey is smitten over your Guilly? I hear tell they cannot stomach each other."

"No dear, tis the Lady Jane _Dudley_ that's smitten over my Guilly. They may have been squeamish in the beginning, but they are unfamiliar no more. See for yourself!"

Madge, who had sat through the majority of the Dudley sponsored dinner without speaking or looking up, finally gave the group a good once over. All of Northumberland's brood was out, all four of his sons; three of their wives and one of his daughters, basking in the glow of his newly cemented power. Mary was the only one missing. Her husband Henry however was present and sitting on the other side of Margaret, but offering his younger sister no welcome, asking no questions of her visit to their sister's London home.

Jane sat next to the Lady Anne Seymour and Baroness Elizabeth Tailboys and was the newest of the Dudley wives. As Margaret finally got a good look at her she saw that Jane in fact seemed completely changed. In their roles as Elizabeth's ladies before, Jane had despaired of wearing anything but a few rings and a simple silver crucifix beneath her gown. This night, her hair was wrapped up in a bejeweled net and a small band of shimmering gems rested atop her pale forehead. Her dress was modest as always but her usual muted tones were gone. In place, the material was sumptuous peach and white silk and there was a lifelike glow about her that accompanied a far off dreamy look in her eye. Guildford, who sat near his brothers towards the head of the table kept turning around and giving her hot glances, a smile on his youthful face. Jane, in reaction, would blush and smile into her napkin and once even giggled.

Madge suddenly realized what Catherine was getting at. Beside the King's seat, Dudley peered down at the activity towards their end of the table. He smirked and turned back to his conversation. The match may have gotten off to a rocky start but now it seemed the two were acting like run of the mill newlyweds. She couldn't help letting out a little chuckle of disbelief. Jane and Guilford were in love? She turned to Catherine.

"God's eyes!" was all she could muster.

Catherine laughed to and rested a hand on Margaret's shoulders as she leaned in to speak quietly into her ear.

"They go at it like jack rabbits. It's absolutely extraordinary. Mother says they'll be breeding within the month!"

With that the girls were unable to confine their laughter to their small section of the table. Catherine's Mother Jane gave them a searing look. The King hadn't arrived but he and his men would be there for supper at any minute. Catherine nodded, trying to stifle another laugh. Her own beau henry Hastings and his Father were in attendance and she wiggled her fingers at him in a flirtatious wave. He smiled and took a sip of his wine, eyeing his lovely bride to be over his goblet. Their wedding had been planned only a few days after Jane's but with all the chaos following, had been pushed to the wayside. Even Catherine had no idea when she would no longer be Henry's promised, but his true wife.

For a moment Madge wondered what it would be like if Paul were sitting across from her. Would he peer at her longingly over the rim of his glass, would he shoot glances at her that set her aflame? More importantly what would these Lords and Ladies do to see a stable hand taking his dinner at their table?

That thought snapped her back to reality. Looking up at who was really sitting across from her, she spotted Robert Dudley. His own wife was not here gracing her gaggle of sisters with her presence. Rumors said she was all boxed up in the countryside, only seeing Robert twice a year or less. He looked sullen, only Madge guessed that it wasn't over his estranged wife.

The banishment of the King's own sisters at Northumberland's behest showed who once again ruled the roost, and his Father's command had taken Robert's longtime companion Elizabeth from him. She and Mary had left that morning for their respective estates. The journey was long, cold and this close to Yule Tide it seemed extremely unnecessary. Margaret had been under the impression that her talk with Edward had steered him towards letting his sisters remain at court. Obviously, it had all been an act. Her voice did not matter to the King of England and she had been a fool to believe it had.

At eighteen the King was in his majority, but the attempt on his life had ushered in the return of the former Protector's influence. Edward's fear was Northumberland's gain. This dinner, in the Duke's own private lodgings showed their reinforced influence. Those who had been invited were either Dudley family or very important, powerful individuals at court. The Duchess of Northumberland had seen that her husband's apartments were resplendent and that the food served was fit for a King. His acceptance of the invitation to dinner would be the first since the Summer before, when Dudley's influence had begun to wane. Now everyone could see he was the King's most trusted advisor once more.

Margaret caught Dudley's eye across the table and gave a weak half smile. He smiled in return but it didn't reach his eyes. Madge felt sadness for Robert, who loved Elizabeth so and could not have her. Now, he could not even be near her and God only knew when they would see her again. If he could banish them so cruelly, Madge guessed it would take a miracle to get Edward to invite them back or a change of heart from Northumberland, but she wouldn't hold her breath.

At the very thought of the King, his herald sounded a trumpet and the sound of men's boots was at the door. It was opened and the King and his men entered. With him was Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, John de Vere Earl of Oxford, the young Thomas Howard Duke of Norfolk and William Somerset, Earl of Worchester. With their arrival the inner core of the King's Privy Council were now present. The Privy Council had met this morning, or so Madge had heard, to discuss their victories in the South. The Prayer book rebellion had been quelled. It seemed to country was quiet again and the new Religion remained the only religion. Of course the matter of men's true thoughts was another matter entirely.

In fact, it was widely known that Oxford's old noble family had always been a Catholic family and there was constant talk of secret Catholic Lords, and their secret Catholic sensibilities. But he was a member of the Privy Council and a man of noble blood. There were others like him, some in seats of power but most disenfranchised since Old King Harry's death, that still carried the stain of ties to Rome and who were always under suspicion. These Lords were who Dudley feared would rally around Mary and support her claim to the throne. Margaret, a Protestant from birth, had learned from her friendship with Princess Mary that any tie in King Edward's court could be cause for alarm. Henry had nearly gone apoplectic when he'd even heard rumors of his sister having a connection to Mary. Madge turned to Henry at that moment. His face was calm, but showed no sign of what he was thinking. In that moment, she saw just how bad a turn things had taken with her brother. Only a few days ago she had been desperate to mend the rift, but he showed no signs of budging. It pained her dearly.

As the King was seated and the dinner guests all returned to their seat Edward leaned forward, a smile on his face. It was two days till Christmas and there were plenty of festivities to be had. Tonight, surrounded by those he most trusted and with his guard out in force Edward was nearly back to himself. But there were still signs of his brush with mortality. The stiff set of his arm, his still pale pallor and the suspicious flicker in his eyes where before there had been none. Margaret had not seen Edward since the day Mary and Elizabeth had stood before him. When they had spoken she had thought he would head her words and chose his family over Dudley's meddling. She had been wrong.

He had invited her to accompany him to Cranmer's sermon that morning but she had feigned illness. Henry had been less than pleased but had not forced her. He had known of the Dudley dinner and had told her in no uncertain terms that she had no choice but to attend. She had arrived in a sullen mood, eyes downcast and had spent most of her time in the Duke's chambers wishing she was in her own quarters. Well, Henry's quarters but they were hers now that she was no longer in Elizabeth's retinue of ladies. They hadn't talked about her future plans, but Margaret knew that talk would come soon.

"Let us thank the Lord God for our plentiful bounty tonight." Dudley began seriously "And for the safe delivery of King Edward. Let us give thanks, and tonight we dine in celebration of the birth of the Christchild!"

Then the feasting began. Madge, now quite used to the splendor of a King's table, was still shocked at the sheer amount of food. Suddenly she was ravenous and ate so quickly Catherine had to scold her for nearly getting her gown all filthy. Talk grew around the table, and pretty soon it turned to where the court would move next.

"To Richmond to see the Lady Anne of course, she had extended an invitation to Mistress Dudley and the young Lord Hastings to celebrate their wedding at her home." Edward said when queried "I accepted of course and we will leave after Twelfth night."

That got a cheery reception, especially from Catherine who nearly squealed.

"Oh Your Majesty! You do us a great honor! I thank you-"

"It is my Lady of Cleves dear Catherine. She writes that she aches for the young court to fill her home with laughter. Besides Henry was growing rather impatient, he nearly bowled me over coming from Thomas's service this morning."

As soon as the words left his mouth his eyes landed on Margaret. She had been watching him speak, smiling broadly at Catherine's good news. Now her cheeks burst into flames, but she did not break the gaze. Her smile faded and she felt a lump rise in her throat. Then, saving her further humiliation he turned and gave Henry a nod.

"She sends word that you wife Mary is settled in and has been given the most comfortable suite possible for the rest of her time. I know you are anxious of news from her dear Sidney."

Beside her Henry smiled himself. Happy to know his wife had made the journey unscathed and happy to hear the King speak to him in such a friendly manner. There had not been a Kind word from Henry's friend since Madge had been taken to the Tower. She eyed her plate, feeling anger at Henry well up inside her. He was like everyone else, the King's favor was above all. Well, he would have to live without it, for she would never marry Edward. Her heart belonged to another.

But she was happy to hear Mary would be in Richmond with them. Though it was usually rare for a woman to venture out once she was confined, she had made the journey. She did not want to spend the rest of her pregnancy alone at Greenwich palace.

As the meal ended and the last of the sweet meats and treats were taken from the table, the Duchess began to lead them all to the solar where they would spend a bit more time with a few amusements. The Archbishop excused himself, sighting fatigue and as he left it seemed the atmosphere seemed to loosen up a little.

There was a card table as well as a handful of musicians and a Welsh poet. Everyone, it seemed, was at ease and as the fire roared in the hearth the world seemed right. Outside it had begun to snow. Inside, Henry Hastings had begun to redden.

"You have had too much to drink boy." His Father said jovially "I'll stop you now before you're fully in your cups."

He did not protest, but leaned heavily against the wall behind him and wiped his brow.

"Did no one warn me of the ale?"

"Tis strong!" Ambrose Dudley said with his own glossy eyed grin "It'll do the boy good!"

Catherine put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. She reached up and brushed a lock of hair back from his head. He turned to her, his handsome face distorted a bit by the amount of spirits he's taken. But Margaret could see the admiration in his gaze. They truly cared for each other. At the thought Margaret stepped back a few paces, distancing herself from the group. As she reached a dark corner by the window she shivered. She could feel the cold air coming from beyond the pane.

"Would you have my cloak Mistress?"

His voice behind her did not startle Margaret as it might have, had he not been speaking so lowly. She turned and was face to face with Edward in the muted light of this particular corner. Her heart raced and she shook her head.

"I would falter under the weight of the Ermine Your Majesty, but you are kind to offer."

He smiled and lifted her hand, rubbing it softly between his own, and warming her fingers. She stared up at him, unsure of what to do.

"Why did you not accompany me to the sermon this morning?"

It was a straight forward question. She took a deep breath.

"I did not wish to go this morning Your Majesty."

He dropped her hand, an eyebrow lifting up in confusion and maybe a little anger. She shook her head, trying to find the right words.

"Much has happened these last few day My Lord and the court talks. I wanted to offer no more fodder for gossips."

"They will talk, always. But those are the consequences of being the promised of a King Margaret, you must grow used to them."

The promised.

The promised of a King.

He had said that. Those words had come from his own lips. He smiled at her dumbfounded look and turned his head to the side.

"You did not know? Come now, you and Henry have talked of it no? I have given him no sure sign but of course it is common knowledge that I am to make you my bride. All will be sorted out soon enough. Let them talk."

Then his hand was on her waist, his fingers gently pushing her towards him as this shocking news was still breaking across her consciousness like waves on the sand. What would she do now? He had never spoken so openly! He desired to make her his wife! All of the joy she had found in her decision to deny the King and accept Paul seemed to begin slipping away. Boasting about denying a King was one thing but actually doing it?

"Your Majesty I-"

He did not let her speak but ever so gently he covered her lips with his. These were not the fervent kisses she had shared with Paul recently. There were those at court who said the King had never been with a woman and Margaret could almost believe it. He barely breathed, but his lips smiled against her and as he took a step back his eyes were closed and surely enough a smile graced his face.

"What a Queen you will make My Lady. And I will have kisses from you every minute, every hour, every day."

_Queen._

_Queen Margaret._

_Queen Margaret of England._

With that kiss Edward had sealed her fate and as he left her alone again in her dark little corner she realized, with a jolt of horror, that the King's kiss had brought her joy. Deep from within something had jumped up and shocked her. These were no longer sweet words and gestures. She could still feel the persistent press of his fingers into the fabric of her gown and the feathery soft brush of his lips upon hers.

That night, lying in bed, she wondered if it was possible for a woman to love two men. As she fell into a fitful sleep, she decided that it could be possible but when one of the men was a King, it was an entirely too heavy a burden for any woman to bear.


	17. Chapter 17

**KINGS AND PAWNS**_  
Chapter XVII_

* * *

December 25th, 1555  
**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

_**T**_he smell of her was everywhere. As Paul slowly woke he smiled, the cold December sunshine spilling into the window above them. He pulled her close, his hands feeling the smooth texture of her shoulders and back. She wiggled beside him, her lithe figure exciting him beneath the quilts.

"Good day Sir."

The voice snapped him out of his revelry. In a moment, his perfect vision came crashing down around him. He was in the servant's quarters, lying on a limp straw mattress, and he could hear the Palace waking up all around him. In his arms was not the woman he loved. The girl, Joan, had been a regular in his bed for the last two years; one of the few who'd made repeat appearances.

Lately, he'd seen none of them. His head had been so full of Margaret that he hadn't had time to go wenching, even during Yuletide, the most celebratory time of the year. But after a night of Christmas festivities in the heart of London, Joan's offer to accompany him had seemed especially tempting. A man had needs after all.

But even as he repeated that to himself he couldn't help but cringe. The pleasure he'd taken in Joan now stained him and made him feel sick to his stomach. After another moment entangled in the girls arms he began to stir. As he moved towards the edge of the bed and reached for his clothes he felt Joan's fingers tracing the curves of his spine. He felt gooseflesh crop up where she touched him and he moved away slightly. She giggled.

"Are you cold my love? Come back under the covers and share my warmth."

She was a pretty girl with golden hair like his and bright green eyes. She had a shape that had his fellow stable hands gawking and was a lively wench that knew how to have a good time. Her family, the Rowleys, had been close to his for years as their Mothers had been laundresses together in the late Queen Catherine Parr's household together and his own Mother had entertained hopes of Joan as a daughter-in-law in recent years.

Paul could do worse, he knew. She was dainty, pretty, and could even read. She was a good girl with a kind heart and had been a friend to Paul for most of his life. But she was not Margaret, he did not love her and for the first time in their history, he regretted sharing her bed. He vowed to never be here again, to never feel the gnawing guilt that ate at him now.

"I must take leave. My Mother will have expected me at her hearth already. Tis Christmas girl, have you no traditions to keep?"

Joan laughed and stretched her long shapely legs out in front of her. She was naked, the coverlet thrown back from her body and her clothes still strewn across the room.

"My mother will be laundering the court Ladies clothes, as always, and my Father will have succumbed to the sleep of whatever Christmas spirits he was able to find last night."

Paul finished dressing and gave her a look. She was watching him, languid and seductive. She nodded to him and slightly parted her lips.

"Tell your dear Mother you were in the Chapel, I'll tell her you escorted me this morning. Mistress Bingham will applaud you for your chivalry."

She sat up, reaching for him but he shook his head and began to put his shoes on. She pouted and threw her hands up.

"You would leave me then? As if we had not shared a bed last night? As if you cared for me not at all?"

"Joan-"

"No, I haven't seen you for weeks and now that I do I can't keep you in my bed for more than a few hours. You treat me like some common slattern and it is ungentlemanly!"

"Ah. Because you're such a great Lady yourself Joan?"

For a moment she looked truly hurt and he decided to recant, but before he could make amends she was up, throwing her clothes on in a fury. Her pride had been touched and she looked ready to breathe fire. He reached out a hand to grab her but she pulled away from him with a little hiss of protest.

"It is her isn't it? That wretched Madge Sidney! You're a fool if you think you'll have her! Here you are, shaming me this way when all I have done is loved you. She will have naught to do with you Paul; she is for the King, not his stable hands!"

"Be still!" he roared, his own temper suddenly flaring.

She stood there, unblinking. Joan was a strong girl. Paul stood fuming, but she did not fear him. After a moment her face began to change. Sadness replaced the anger that had been there before. She took a step forward, one hand reached out to him. He did not take it.

"Do not fool yourself into thinking you love her. It is like a Knight and a Queen in a fairy story. What do you know of her? Is she a woman of flesh and blood like me, or would you worship her from afar?"

He didn't speak, only watched her speak. Her words cut him to the quick.

"Do you know her secret places? Do you know of her family or she of yours? What is her favorite dish for dinner? What are her humors? Is she devout? What do you know of her Bingham? Think. Think before you ruin yourself and her."

She walked towards the door and took one last look at him, her eyes misting over with tears that made him hate himself.

"Or I. You will be my ruin too Paul."

With that she was gone. Her warning rang in his head along with his Father's. She would be his ruin and his downfall. She would be his and he would be hers. Madge had assured him that she would deny the King for him and he believed she planned to do it if it came to a betrothal. But what would happen to them? If Edward truly loved her he would not stand for it. His pride and his Council would not stand for it.

He was the King, and Paul knew firsthand how the boy Edward had handled betrayal. Now he was a man and coming into his full power. At his right hand Dudley was poised to strike, ruthless in his pursuit of authority over the King. Both were deadly enemies that he could not protect her from if she did indeed choose him.

If they were to be together, to truly be wed, they would have to leave court and London all together. Maybe even the country. Where could they hide where Edward Tudor could not find them? That thought weighed heavily on him as he made his way back to his home. He knew what his Father would say, were he to ask for advice. Need he suffer all of this chaos and strife for one silly girl?

He smiled at the thought. He could not fool himself. Margaret Sidney was much, much more than a mere girl. He may not have known everything about her, as Joan had been so quick to point out, but from the moment he had laid eyes on her something in him had fundamentally changed. He thought of Joan and thought of all the other girls he had bed sport with and none of them held the same sway over his imagination that Madge did and they had never even coupled.

As he neared his Father's door he spotted the familiar Sidney livery in the corner of his eye. It was Madge's page boy. Paul hurried towards him, his cold hands stretched out and his face taut with expectation.

"A message?" he asked breathlessly. The nameless youth smiled and placed something in his palm. It was a small bit of mistletoe, and nothing more.

"A Merry Christmas to you Master Bingham."

He was gone quickly and stealthily, Madge had been smart to choose him. Paul couldn't help but grin. As he turned the mistletoe to inspect it a small slip of parchment fell out into his palm. Very slowly he opened it, and her familiar scrawl greeted him.

"_In our Garden, at dawn."_

He gripped the little plant tightly and headed inside, his spirits high. A Merry Christmas indeed.

"_**I**_'m to be titled."

Margaret looked up quickly as her brother spoke. She was handing young Phillip back to his nurse as Henry walked into the room and she noticed he was dressed rather smartly. She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

"Titled?"

He nodded and stepped up, kissing Phillip on his cheek as Miranda lifted him and made her exit. Madge was dressed herself for the nights revels but didn't look half as elegant as her own brother. He gave her a familiar half smile and her eyes widened. Titled, Henry who was a simple Knight, as his Father had been a simple Knight.

"His Majesty has made me Viscount Humber and Baron Folkstone. He's finally given me the titles to Penshurst and Myton and has given me Cooling and Tonbridge Castles as well."

Margaret was speechless. She watched as he walked towards his desk and grabbed a few parchments with the Great Seal on them. Their family crest was beside it. Standing their open mouthed she felt her head spin.

"Henry! Oh Henry you are a Viscount! And a Baron!"

"And he has given into my keeping the Lordship of Kinston-Upon-Hull."

"Father would be so proud!"

She threw herself forward, embracing her brother tightly. He let out a loud barking laugh and then lifted her up off the ground. Their strife was forgotten, their quarrels pushed to the wayside. He spun her in the air as if she were a little girl again. She kissed the top of his forehead.

"Would he indeed Madge Pie?" he asked using Sir William's pet name for her "Would he not be proud of you as well?"

He set her down and moved back towards the desk and placed his papers in a lock box. She stared at him, confusion coloring her features.

"Me? Whatever for Henry?"

He paused and gave that same half smile.

"Margaret why do you think these favors have been bestowed upon me?"

"You are a good and true servant to His Majesty; you have been his friend since childhood. He values your advice and have pleased him much since becoming a member of his Privy Council."

"And why, pray tell, was I given a position on that Council?"

Suddenly she felt her stomach drop.

"Henry I have had nothing to do with your star rising at court! I have asked nothing of His Majesty."

"Haven't you now? You are the future bride of a King and I am your brother. He is preparing you for the days and weeks to come."

"Preparing me?"

"Yes. Now you are the sister of a Viscount and I now have the means to provide you with a more acceptable dowry. By God's grace and the King's favor there will be more honors to come."

She didn't want to talk about this. She didn't want to hear him praising her for these new titles, for these new riches. He was so happy, and he claimed she was the source of this happiness. She turned towards the window, crossing her arms in front of her.

"When will you tell Mary she is to be a Viscountess and a Baroness to boot?"

"I have written to her just this morning. I am sure she will be overjoyed. Northumberland seemed rather pleased. If only he could get his youngest boys some titles so easily."

He spoke of Robert and Guildford. Madge was sure he'd procure something. The King was in his back pocket again after all and it seemed Dudley could do no wrong in Edward's eyes. And at any rate, once Jane's Mother and Father died, dear little Guilly would be the next Duke of Suffolk. As they left Henry's apartments arm in arm, Margaret pondered her brother's announcement.

"The King has spoken to me of his desire to wed."

Henry nodded, as if he had been expecting this.

"Has he spoken to you of these things?"

"On more than one occasion. Today, for the first time, he made himself very clear. You are to be his bride."

There is was. The plain truth. She said nothing more as they made their way to the Great Hall where the rest of the court had gathered. The Christmas revels were to begin this night and Margaret, who should have been bursting at the seams, felt only a heavy dread encircle her heart.

"Henry, I-"

"Margaret please, you know that you cannot deny him. What frightens you so? You are to be Queen! You must stop this foolish doubt and worry."

"It is not doubt and worry Henry! I cannot marry when-"

_When I love another…_

The words melted on her tongue. She was unable to speak them. She was almost afraid he would strike her down if she did. There he stood, in all his newly minted glory and those words would only cause to anger him. She was trapped, like an animal in a snare and her whole being cried out that she should run. But she could not. The herald was calling out their introductions.

He gave her one last puzzled look and the entered. Once inside Margaret quickly separated herself from Henry. He was suspicious now; she could see it in his eyes. He would sense her unease and as much as she knew she needed to be truthful about her love for Paul, she could not bring herself to tell him. Not on her own, and not yet. She needed strength, she needed help. At dawn she would speak to him and they would face this together. He would lend her all the might she needed.

"Madge!"

Eleanor's familiar voice rang out and Margaret turned, filled with excitement. She hadn't seen her since the night she'd gone with Elizabeth to the Tower. Her Father had whisked her away and she had been wed at his estates in the North. Her husband, Sir Brian stood beside her. His short brown hair and large green eyes were charming and he had a protective hand placed on his wife's back.

"Oh Margaret! I've missed you so!"

"And I you Eleanor; you and you Lord look as happy as I had prayed you would be. Marriage has suited you well."

She beamed and turned to give Brian a look that spoke volumes. He smiled back at her and then took his leave, talking with Eleanor's eldest brother Henry who had just recently become the Earl of Westmoreland after his Father's death. Brian was now in his service.

"Yes. It had suited Jane well, and will soon suit Catherine." She paused giving Madge a knowing look "And the whole Court is abuzz that soon you'll know the many joys of matrimony yourself!"

Margaret did not smile or rejoice as Eleanor had expected. She put a hand on her shoulder and spoke softly.

"Dear, whatever is the matter? You should be preening like a peacock. What ails you?"

Behind them a woman stepped up to stand beside Eleanor, getting Madge's attention.

"Cold feet I assume? Marriage, especially marriage to a King, can be a risky endeavor."

Margaret nearly hissed. Standing there, bold as brass, was the girl who had cornered her on the night of the banquet in honor of Prince Eric of Sweden. She had said horrible things and Margaret had only thought her a meddling stranger. She had not seen her at court before or since.

"Oh Katherine, please." Eleanor said rolling her eyes "What would you know of marriage?"

The pretty girl shrugged, her hair hanging in glossy red ringlets around her face. She smiled smugly at Margaret. She wondered how she and Eleanor knew of each other.

"Margaret this is my niece the Lady Katherine De Vere." Eleanor's eyes raised "Katherine this is Mistress Margaret Sidney, sister to-"

"I know who she is, of course." Katherine gave her a little nod "Who at Court does not?"

"A pleasure to meet you Lady Katherine. You are the daughter of Lord John I assume?"

"Yes and the Lady Dorothy Neville, May God rest her soul."

Her pedigree was obvious, two old and Noble names in England. What Margaret couldn't figure out was why she had never seen the girl out in the open at Court before but only in that secluded little corridor, dressed like some merchant's daughter. She was dressed much more appropriately now, in a silver and yellow gown with diamonds at her throat.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Lady Katherine."

She gave a slight nod of her head and then said her swift goodbyes before disappearing into the crowd. Eleanor put a hand on Margaret's elbow and they made their way around the massive display of special Christmas sweets and pastries. Margaret reached out and grabbed a candied peach.

"Tell me of the Lady Katherine." She tried to sound as if she was only casually enquiring and Eleanor gave her an unsavory look.

"The poor child has been inconsolable since my sister Dorothy's death. Her Father had been lapse in finding her a good match and she got tangled up in a scandal with one of his young Valets. Quite the debacle, she miscarried and John has only recently allowed her back at Court."

Margaret's eyes widened. An Earl's daughter being bedded by one of his own servants and getting with child! Eleanor nodded, and took a bit of her own pastry. She nodded towards the crowds of people and pointed to the Earl of Oxford. He looked rather lavishly dressed and was holding a conversation with his second wife, the Countess Margery. She looked less than pleased.

"Only recently? Are you quite certain?"

"She lost the babe five months ago and he had her installed at one of their homes in London. I imagine he let her out as a Christmas consideration. She's a rather rotten thing; she and her step mother have been at war the whole evening. Not that the Countess is any less horrid."

She waved a hand and rolled her pretty brown eyes.

"Henry says we must help her, make her feel comfortable, as Dorothy would have wanted of us. I know it is our familial duty but I do so tire of it."

Margaret wondered just how the little baggage had managed to get in the castle, so close to court life, if her Father had been keeping her away. She hadn't been dressed like an Earl's daughter but Margaret could remember how hateful her face had been the one time they had met. She shook the thoughts out of her head.

"Ah, there are Jane and Catherine and that handsome Henry Hastings!"

Eleanor embraced Catherine as she approached and covered her mouth as she turned to Jane.

"My, my Lady Dudley you are positively glowing, I must say."

"Eleanor!" Jane giggled and pressed her hands into the skirts of her gown "How I've missed you!"

Margaret still marveled at the change in little Jane. She was lit from within. She was still the same smart, pious, quiet Jane but she was a woman wedded and bedded now. She adored Guildford and he her. Her parents were pleased, her in laws were pleased, and surely she thought God was pleased. Margaret was happy. She was happy for all her friends who were set to be wives or who had already married. She felt a little of the weight lift from her as she relished in her place among these women. They were, as always, the bright spot in the unrelenting whirl of court life.

"Henry, you're looking rather fetching this evening." Margaret said as they settled in at a small table near one of the roaring fireplaces.

People were still filing in, finding friends and family, exchanging gifts, nibbling on the delicacies set out. There would be a Nativity play, in which some of the Court had parts to perform and afterwards a feast would be held in the great hall. Of course some of the older Courtiers recalled a time when Christmas celebrations had been much grander, much more decadent, a season of pure frivolous joy. Many of the Catholic traditions and pastimes had died away under King Edward's Protestant rule and the new celebrations were more muted, less indulgent. The Reformation had done its job well in England.

For the younger members of the Court, this was nothing new. They had grown up without the old splendor of the Roman Church, and these celebrations were enough to bring them joy. Henry Hastings joy was palpable as he settled in next to his soon-to-be bride. They complimented each other, wearing red velvet with white and silver trimming. The bodice of her gown was crossed with real silver thread as was the trimming of his doublet and breeches. They made a handsome couple.

"It was Catherine's idea. She oversaw the design and the tailoring. Such a woman!"

Catherine laughed and he winked. Turning around, he waved to the young Lords Thomas and Henry Howard. They were Duke of Norfolk and Earl of Northampton respectively. He took his leave and left the women to chatter. At once they all leaned in towards Margaret.

"We are to be your Ladies at your wedding Margaret. Mary too, if the King waits that long. I say once we get settled in Richmond we begin on your trousseau, you've been so helpful with mine-"

"And mine!" Jane said.

"None of you lazy bones helped me with mine." Eleanor laughed and took a sip of the cider that had been brought in pewter cups. They laughed with her, but Catherine went straight back to business.

"I think, with your coloring, a pale rose gown with a dark cream accent. And no jewels, pearls. Pearls at your ears and throat and on your gown. Maybe diamonds…"

"I cannot afford such finery Catherine, be sensible."

"Oh no." Jane said gravely, putting her hands in her lap "Your Brother knows what is at stake. He would spare no expense. There will be those who say you have no right to the Throne Madge. They will say you are a commoner and a bad choice of bride for His Majesty. Some want marriages with the French, and those who want and English bride say her blood must be old and royal."

"Well, Margaret can trace her line back to Edward the Third, distantly, through her Mother."

"How did you know that?" Margaret whipped her head around. It had been a story her Mother had told to her sometimes, of their family ties to the great King Edward. But she had said it wasn't worth mentioning in mixed company, as their ties to him were not as strong as others. They were not blood royal.

"Everyone knows that. You are to be Consort to the King. People at Court think themselves experts on your history and your pedigree." She smiled "Do not look so fearful, so pained. You act as if-"

She looked down at the floor, her eyes filling with tears. Silence in the little group. They all looked puzzled, stunned.

"Dear girl, why in the world are you crying?"

She blinked, not letting the tears fall and shaking her head vigorously.

"I am afraid."

She lied. She cried because as time passed, it seemed like refusing the King would alienate many people. Her Brother, the court, Edward himself and now even her friends. They already had crowned her Queen in their minds. How would they react when they found out who she truly wanted to marry?

It didn't matter. She smiled. It didn't matter.

"Marriage pleases God Margaret, and you could do much worse than the most powerful man in England. Your children will be Princes and Princesses, Kings and Queens. You will be the foremost Lady in the country. You need not fear."

Jane, who had only a short time ago had bemoaned marriage as her worst nightmare, looked so serene and sure when telling Margaret this, she nearly laughed. This smile lifted the tension and they fell into their usual joyous chatter about anything and everything.

Then the King was announced. When he entered, everyone stood and did reverence to His Majesty. As she rose Margaret felt something stir in her belly and she tried to shake it from her, but it would not be gone. That slight, gentle kiss in the shadows had awaked something in her. It was something much different than the engulfing passion of Paul. It did not instantly engulf her and steal her senses as she burned. It was almost a lightning bolt, a current so strong and clear shining through her, that made her feel as if she were a beacon.

He wore purple and black that night with a long cape to cover his well bandaged shoulder. Despite his still pale countenance he looked as handsome as ever. As he entered, the pride of his court was evident. Even with Northumberland trying to keep him under his thumb, Edward was still a good and just King. His reign, the reign his Father had worked so hard for, would be a magnificent one. That was what they all hoped and prayed for.

He was old enough now, to marry, to have his own household and to beget an heir. He needed a bride, his people needed a prince in the cradle and then a spare Prince in the Queen's belly the next year. Margaret could feel the weight of that on her like a lead cloak. As she trembled at the thought, his eyes landed on her. He strode forward, with the whole room watching until he was right in front of her. His smile was warm and he smelled fresh, as is he had come straight from a bath in his chambers. It was likely he had. Of the few times a year most of the nobility bathed, Christmas was usually always one.

"Would Mistress Sidney care to accompany Us to the stage for tonight's play?"

Margaret could not help but smile. She was excited for the play, had been since they'd announced it weeks before. Sitting in the front and center with Edward would be a treat. He enjoyed the skits and plays put on at court just as much as she did and they had talked of their shared love a few times in the past.

"It would be an honor Your Majesty."

She curtseyed again and then rested her arm gently in the crook of his as they lead the court to their seats in the adjoining hall. Edward turned to her, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight. He inched closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"I have had it settled. We will be married in late March, when it is warm. You will have a Spring wedding, my beautiful Queen Margaret."

For a moment she nearly lost her footing, but regained it before anyone could see.

"I am sure any wedding of the King's will be a beautiful wedding. I have always loved them in the Spring."

The answer suited him, but she had been sure to speak only of a King's wedding. Not a wedding to her. She would stand steadfast, and she would tell Paul so in a few hours' time. She may have loved the King, but he had come second in her affections since the first time Paul had kissed her, and now he always would.


	18. Chapter 18

**KINGS AND PAWNS**_  
Chapter XVIII_

* * *

December 26th, 1555  
**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

**_I_**n the same garden he had found her when he first came to Greenwich, he found her again. She was sitting on a curved stone bench. The wind blew bitter as she pulled a heavy, hooded cloak about her and tried to keep herself warm. He smiled at her little figure as he neared her.

"My Lady."

At the sound of his voice she startled. Her hair was studded with sparkling gems and her complexion glowed in the bright, winter moonlight. She looked beautiful, and next to her Yuletide finery he felt like a street urchin. He paused.

She looked confused as he stopped. Lifting herself from the bench she neared him, her eyes clouded with anxiety. She could read the uneasiness in his handsome face. The rumors had spread that the King had chosen Margaret and that they would soon be wed, with nothing to impede their nuptials. It was being sung and recited and repeated that the young, glorious King had married an honorable English lady for love. She was daughter of the much loved William Sidney and a lady not born into the lurid intrigue of the English court. The land rejoiced at such a Queen, one of their own and a good Protestant girl to boot.

Paul felt his dread growing. She had told him that she chose him, that she would deny the King. But the pained look on her face spoke volumes. His pain radiated from him as he contemplated what she would tell him. She must have come to tell him that their charade was over.

"Paul." She said his name like a prayer, the reverence chilling him to the bone "Why do you hold yourself at length? Come to me. Come to me my Lord."

He could not bridge the gap.

"The King, if he found me here, would have my head and yours. I cannot hold close to my heart the betrothed of my sovereign Lord."

She sank into her seat again. Her countenance was stricken, her shoulders slumped.

"I came to borrow strength from you, good Sir. I came to speak of my refusal of the King, and of my love for you. That you greet me such makes me wary of my plans. If you are not for me, why should I lend my disgrace and banishment?"

There was a stunned silence. He watched her, listening for any trace of treachery. She looked sincere. He rushed to her, pulling him into his arms and pressing her form to him as tightly as he could. She struggled at first, still stinging from his comments.

"You speak so poisonously and then hold me so tenderly? What nature am I to judge you by; your words or your actions?"

He pushed a stray curl from her forehead and cupped her face with his other hand. She leaned into him, tired and weak.

"Dear girl, I can only ask you judge me by my love for you. I fear, every moment that you will forsake this foolish scheme to troth yourself to a meager stable boy. What am I to a King as your Lord and husband? What have I to give to such a Lady as you? It is unnatural for you to desire me above all others, as I am below you in station so much that it would tear you from all your kin were you to truly embrace me as your lawful spouse."

She shook her head violently.

"I grew up in a small country house, I lived a quiet life. I read and tended to my Sister's garden. I gave alms to the poor and learned to run a small household of my own. I came to this court an innocent and I have seen nothing but treachery and misery. I am no fit to rule a castle, a court or a country. I am no Queen. I am better suited a stable boy's wife, by God!"

He laughed. There were tears running down her eyes but the fire with which she replied made him stir with desire. What a woman this was!

"My father left me a small bit of money and my own house in York. Henry will be sure to leave me with a sizeable dower, even if I refuse the King."

Paul stiffened. That very task would mean so much.

"We will have to marry in secret. We would have to elope and to consummate the marriage. If we begat a child they would have no use but to let us live. But it is a dangerous plan Margaret. You risk all, including your life."

"And yours?"

"I would gladly lay mine down for a chance to be your husband, my love."

She sighed, leaning her head against her shoulder and smelling his scent. He smelled of the stables, and of his evening meal. But he also smelled of ink and soap and his own intoxicating scent that was unique only to his skin. He wrapped his strong arms about her waist.

"The sun has risen in earnest. We cannot stay."

"Only one moment more please Paul."

"I will speak to your brother. I will tell him before the court leaves for Richmond."

"No. We must wait till after Yuletide, until the court has dispersed. You must accompany the court to the Lady Anne's castle. We will both speak to Henry; we will elope if we must. But rest assured my love that I only have a true heart for you Master Bingham and I will shout it from the walls of every castle in England if I must do, to convince you of it."

"You have convinced me, my Lady love. For I hear the affection you bear for me in your words and feel it in your touch. It causes me to wonder at the awesome mysteries of my God, and believe in the power of supplication. I have prayed for this moment Margaret and the Lord has answered my prayers."

The courage she needed, the strength she had hoped to gain from him, emanated from those words. In the coming days and weeks she would hold them to her like a shield against the tumult that was sure to come. Paul was her rock, would be her husband and nothing could tear them asunder. Not even their King.

* * *

January 6th, 1556 **GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

"**_T_**ruly, I mustn't continue or I shall faint."

Eleanor laughed as the music came to a halt and Margaret watched fondly as Sir Stapleton placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. Her hand brushed her stomach briefly and she seemed to swoon slightly. Margaret felt a little nudge of suspicion.

"Do you see her Catherine? I suspect something of her."

"Ah." Catherine Dudley nodded astutely, taking a big gulp of something that smelled a bit stronger than what Cat usually indulged in. "Yes. It would suit Eleanor to bear Sir Brian a son. She is well suited for motherhood. See how well she had chaperoned that De Vere baggage? Not a single incident since she made her appearance at court."

That was true. Katherine De Vere had courted no more scandal under Eleanor's astute watch. But she had only been in the public eye since Christmas. Eleanor hadn't had responsibility of the girl for very long. Margaret guessed she could cause some sort of havoc.

"Would you dance again Margaret? The King seems thrilled to watch you. He can barely pay attention to poor Renard. Your crimson gown hinders the Empire's agenda quite effectively."

It was true. Edward was leaned forward on the royal dais as his court danced around him, watching Margaret with ardent eyes. Simon Renard, the Holy Roman Empire's ambassador was trying valiantly to get his attention. The final night of the Christmas revels would end soon. In a few days they would be packing up and leaving for Richmond and Madge had no idea what he was planning or when. Henry had ridden ahead to Mary at Richmond and she wouldn't see him again till they arrived.

She would have to break the news to him at Richmond. It would be the hardest thing she'd ever done. Margaret had no idea what he would do, but she could only hope that he would understand and support her. She wouldn't forsake true love for ambition. It was true her feelings towards the King had been confusing as of late but she had decided it was her devotion as his subject that had led her to imagine these feelings for him. She could not imagine herself as a woman torn between two loves. If it was true love, real love, it was the only love there was. There should be no room for others, or for doubt.

In her own secret knowledge of her own true love, she felt a jolt of pity. Turning, she caught Edward's gaze. All that she had learned of the King, all the things that made him a man, haunted her. He thought himself a man in love, a man on the brink of marriage. He had chosen her above all others to be his bride. His pride would be heart, he would be wounded. It was frightening to incur the King's wrath but how could she ever forgive herself for being the cause of his sadness?

Suddenly her head began to pound. Her resolve was strong, but in the midst of all the Holiday joy and celebration, in the midst of her own internal crisis she could not calm herself. She needed Paul, she needed his arms and his kiss and his words to soothe her. As she turned to bolt, a voice behind her startled her.

"Margaret, darling, could you be of some assistance?"

It was Katherine De Vere. Madge gave a brittle smile and a slight curtsy.

"Lady De Vere, I am quite tired and-"

"You weren't thinking of leaving the festivities at this hour were you? It is Twelfth Night, and the merrymaking has just begun. The King will finish with his advisors, and he will wish to dance with you."

Her last sentence hung in the air like a taunt. She didn't dare look up at the King, for fear of the truth in her words. How could she face him now, knowing what she would shortly have to confess? She cursed the unfortunate girl before her.

"You seek shelter from the storm, Mistress Sidney?" Katherine's head fell back and she laughed as if it were the most amusing thing she could imagine "You bear no love for our King."

"Do no presume to know who I love, my Lady."

"I never presume. My sources are always impeccable. Being disgraced can lead to some wonderful connections. I'm privy to all sorts of lower class secrets, you know."

Madge froze.

"Ah yes, I am quite the little secret keeper my dear. I've yet to let anyone know of the wonderful bit of gossip about you and the stable boy."

She wanted desperately to shut her up. There were people about, who could hear what she was saying who would go mad with the news. Madge composed herself briefly and laced her arm in Katherine's. Leading her slightly away from the bustle of the crowd she kept a serene smile on her face as they walked. When they were suitably far enough away she spun on Katherine.

"What is it that you want? To disgrace me? Wait but a few days and I shall do so myself. You need not waste your energy."

Katherine raised an eyebrow.

"You are quite the fool, Margaret Sidney. You would deny a King for a fit of lust over a pauper? Queens have lovers of course, as long as you can convince him you are virgin on your-"

"You go too far Madame. My honor is unstained; I am a virgin, touched by no man and with no mark of the sin of fornication upon me."

"To sin in the heart is to sin of the body. Have you not imagined his rough hands on your skin?"

"Stop this."

"I know the fascination with the lower class dear; I had quite the affair with one of my Father's servants if you hadn't already heard. For you, so nearer to his caste, it would have been even harder to resist your inferior nature. When carnal love is concerned-"

"You are base and vile and I wish to never speak with you again!"

Margaret needed to escape. This horrid woman had somehow found out her secret and now she feared the worst. Who else would the tactless Katherine De Vere tell of Margaret's indiscretion?

"Stay awhile Margaret. I have someone who would like to meet you."

She stopped and turned. Now, standing beside the elegantly dressed Lady De Vere there was a servant girl. She was pretty, with blonde hair tied modestly behind a clean, white veil. Her green eyes were vibrant and she was comely, with a good figure. She stared at the floor, her hands trembling.

"Lady Margaret Sidney, this is young Joan Rowley. She is the daughter of my chief laundress. It appears that she _is _in fact stained with the sin of fornication. Isn't that so Joan?"

Margaret was confused. The servant girl nodded, tears welling up in her eyes.

"She has come to me begging for help and as a good and gentle, Mistress I have obliged her. It seems that your stable boy is a busy lover. His reputation precedes him, of course, but lately his affections have been quite hot for two ladies in particular."

Katherine winked.

"Considering your status and your slightly more impressive dower, it is no wonder he has put thoughts of love and marriage in your mind without the pursuit of more…pleasurable alternatives. Joan, it seems, was on the opposite end. He has been bedding her Margaret, and he has gotten her with child."

She felt the air empty from her lungs. She remembered the warning Catherine had issued about Paul, about him ruining respectable women. The girl was crying in earnest now, one hand on her stomach and one hand covering her tear soaked face.

"Tis true Lady Margaret, he has promised me marriage in the past but he told me he planned to marry you. He would forsake me and his unborn child for your love! I beg you, do not take him from me or I shall be ruined. No man would have me!"

Margaret trembled. She was angry, hurt, confused and had no idea what to do. These were lies, horrible, malicious lies.

"You dare set up this charade? I shall inform my Brother and he will have words with the Earl of Oxford and you will be sorry."

"Ah, my Father does not care about me Margaret, which is one luxury I do have. No man to meddle in my affairs. And go ahead; reveal your own sins to your brother. I was only fulfilling a promise to my serving girl. If Paul does indeed neglect his responsibilities, I will take the matter to my Father myself. I am a go between dear girl, and nothing more."

She felt her stomach begin to knot up. The girl, Joan, looked ready to flee. Margaret stepped to her, taking the girl's quivering hand's in hers.

"Is it true? Do you swear on your honor he has been to your bed?"

Joan nodded her head furiously, tears streaming down her reddened face.

"And you are with child? His child?"

The girl choked back a sob.

"He is the only man I have ever known My Lady. I thought we were to marry. My Father would beat me if he found out I have lain with him. I will be disgraced and ruined!"

Her words ate at Margaret's resolve. If it was true, if Paul did in fact Father her child and did not marry her she _would _be ruined. What marriage could this poor girl garner with another man's babe in her belly? But she could not imagine Paul being untrue. She was risking everything, they were risking everything.

"I…I shall speak to Paul and I shall get to the bottom of this." She said that gently, but turned to Katherine with a spiteful glare "If it is a slander, I will discover the truth."

"He will lie to you, my sweet, simple Margaret. As I said, if he disgraces her, I will be her champion. I would not let her name be sullied by such a man."

With a smile she turned, leading Joan down the corridor. Madge stood dumb founded in the darkness. Behind her she could hear the lute playing high and sweet. It was early yet, and she had made no mention of leaving to anyone. But her heart was heavy, and she could not return. She leaned against a pillar and let the tears come. In one fell swoop, the De Vere harpy had ruined her vision of happiness. She had called her simple. Was she? Had she been foolish enough to let a scoundrel lead her to the altar?

Fear surged through her. This tentative, new love for Paul had come so quickly. She did not know him, she had let herself succumb to the abandon of his love. Did he even love her? Margaret felt her head spinning. It seemed that no matter how high or low, in the court of King Edward there was intrigue and deceit. She couldn't escape it. She had believed Paul was her safe haven, but now her world had shifted. Margaret didn't know what to do next.

"Mistress Sidney."

Dudley's voice startled her so badly, she nearly screamed. Standing to her left, dressed in all his finery, was the Duke of Northumberland. Since she had been placed in his household Margaret had seen much more of him, but they had only spoken a handful of words to one another. His shrewd eyes surveyed her, and he smiled slightly his hands clasped behind his back.

"Your Grace, I am sorry. I was feeling ill and I did not want to cause a scene in the Hall."

He didn't speak, but took a step closer. He looked down the hall that Katherine had just excited and her heart skipped a beat. Dudley was intimidating, a calculating man of granite and iron. He was the most powerful man in England, next to the King and he knew it.

"Your Grace please-"

"Of course. The festivities have been frenzied. And winter breeds a weak constitution, does it not?"

She nodded.

"You may retire Margaret. We leave for Richmond soon; you should rest so you can be well for the journey."

He nodded and two of his guard appeared from out of the shadows. Madge was shocked at their silent arrival. She wondered how many men Northumberland had at his disposal, and how many of them he kept at court. She shivered.

"Mistress Sidney, I hope you know that I consider you family. I have come to love Henry as a son, and his family is as good as kin to me. I am loyal to my family."

She turned to look at him, surprised. Something so kind from such a cold man. He smiled again and she felt her skin crawl.

"And I expect them to be loyal to me in return. Escort Mistress Sidney to my wife's rooms. See that she gets there in one piece."

He winked and turned to enter the hall again. As she and her borrowed guard headed back to her room in the Lady Dudley's apartments, she thought of Dudley's words to her. He expected loyalty? What good could her loyalty do him?

_As Margaret Sidney, nothing. As Queen of England….._

Lying in her bed that night, his words left her cold. Dudley had noticed her as a player on the board and he would waste no time in moving her about as he pleased. The gulf between her and Henry left her vulnerable. He could not defend her against Dudley's wiles. He had just as much to lose as she did.

As she heard the rest of the household returning and settling in for bed, she still laid awake with her thoughts and fears. She would find no peace, or sleep, for hours to come.


	19. Chapter 19

**KINGS AND PAWNS**_  
Chapter XIX_

* * *

January 8th, 1556  
**GREENWICH PALACE, ENGLAND**

"Your Mother and you brother and I are returning to Whitehall."

Paul heard his Father behind him. His own things were packed, the few small bags he had, as he was accompanying the court in their move to Richmond. The Lady Anne had no spot for him in his stables, but he would take on any role the castle's steward would give him. It would only be temporarily, then when he and Margaret had been officially betrothed (or had run off to elope) they would leave court. Where they would go he had no idea, but they could figure that out in time. All that mattered was that he have her for his own, forever.

"You are to stay here at Greenwich. Before we leave, you are to marry Joan."

Suddenly he spun around, paying his Father real attention. He stood in front of the hearth, arms crossed over his chest and his face hard. His mother was cleaning and storing her cookware and didn't make eye contact. As it was early, Stephan still slept on their parent's bed, in the back room.

"Marry Joan? Of what madness do you speak? I depart for Richmond this day."

The older man paused and fixed his son with a look of disbelief.

"I have told you time and again to put her out of your head, boy! You will leave off these foolish fantasies once and for all. You will see to your duties, you will not shirk them!"

"Of what duties do you speak? To Joan? I have made no such promises to her, or any oaths of that kind."

He was confused, frantic. His Father thrust a piece of paper at him. He took it from him and began to read it. It was in unfamiliar writing, and smelled of women's tincture. He read it in horror. The Lady Catherine De Vere had sent it directly to Paul's Father, in her own hand, on behalf of Joan Rowley. Joan was claiming that she was with child, and that Paul had gotten her that way and was refusing to wed her for the love of a great lady. Lady De Vere did not presume to know who the other woman was, but if this grievance was not addressed she would contact the girl's family and supply her with a lawyer her Father kept as a part of his household.

Paul read it again, and again.

"She calls for me to take Joan's hand in marriage? I cannot! I mustn't!"

"Have you bedded her? Have you ruined her with your bastard? You must wed her, or you will ruin her!"

"The child is not mine!"

"DO NOT LIE TO ME BOY!"

His Father was breathing heavily now, his face red. Stephan was peeping from out of the doorway. Pauls mother stopped her packing and ushered the younger boy back into the room. She let a tapestry fall behind her as they walked, as if the fabric could shut their fighting out. Paul gritted his teeth.

"I have not lain with her since the night of the Christmas Eve revels, before that she had not been to my bed for months, at least two. By my rights, it cannot be my babe?"

"She claims it is very early on, but that she has taken the girl to a physician who has declared the time of conception to be that very night! She claimed she was a virgin the first time you coupled and that she has known no other man but you! You promised to wed her!"

"I called her Mrs. Bingham in jest! She lies, the child cannot be mine!"

"The Lady De Vere will call you to answer these charges if you do not wed her! We cannot fight a lawyer in a King's court; you would be thrown in gaol and fined. You would have to marry her, with no dower, and would shame your name and the name of your child forever. Do not throw your life away! If Joan is carrying your babe you must protect her and the child! You must-"

"I am to marry Margaret." He said stiffly "It is arranged!"

"It is arranged? Then why was her brother given a Barony and titled as a Viscount? Why do they say His Majesty will make her a Marchioness, a Duchess even? He intends to wed her Paul! You cannot have her!"

"She doesn't love him, she loves me and we will marry!"

"You will be executed for treason and she will face the same fate! The Tudors are a vengeful lot and you will not prevail!"

Paul was shocked by his Father's blunt words. He felt his head spin.

"If we married, if we consummated the union."

"What Preacher would marry you? None would dare that support the King's new religion, and if you did it by Catholic Priest who would it would be null and void by the laws of the land. You cannot win."

"We will flee, to Scotland or the continent."

"Where will you go? With what money will you live?"

"God will provide."

"You are a foolish boy." His Father seemed to collapse into a chair, his hands falling limply at his sides. "If you leave, her family and yours will be at the mercy of the King's wrath."

He froze. Imagining his Father in a dank dungeon somewhere, while they turned screws and ropes and battered him with weapons and questions. Questions he couldn't (or wouldn't) answer. He thought of Margaret's brother, who she loved so deeply, and what would happen to him. He thought of his Mother's face, his little brother's, and he felt a cold, surety surround him. His love for her had blinded him to the peril they would face. He had known all along, but he had pushed it aside at every turn. And now there was Joan. If she really was pregnant with his child, and he did not wed her, he would ruin her life as well.

The image of Margaret, concrete and all important, began to waver. Now there was the image of reality, and it was much less beautiful. His Father had never looked so old and so ill. Not since the final tempestuous years of Henry VIII's rule had he appeared so frightened. Paul felt tears welling up in his eyes.

"It has all been smoke in my hands. I thought I could capture it, but I have been a fool."

He sank down into a chair, his soul black with this new understanding. He had fooled himself and he had nearly cost her everything. If he truly loved her, could he really do this to her, and her family?

"I will speak to Joan's Father this afternoon. You will come with me."

Paul didn't speak, didn't show that he had even heard. His Father didn't care.

"Unpack your things. You and I are to visit private stable tomorrow in London, owned by a Sir James Torrington. We will get you a living, a good one, and a place where you can use your skills to the best of your ability."

By skills he did not mean writing poetry, or plays or tales. He meant for Paul to continue in his trade, work the same stables he himself had worked as a youth and succeed doing exactly what he, his Father, his Grandfather and his Great Grandfather had done. Paul felt defeated. Could he refuse? Could he afford to?

"As you wish, Father. I will go. I will do what you ask of me."

"You will do what your own decisions have demanded of you. This is the only course it could have taken son, no matter what tales she spun."

Paul shook his head, unable to argue with his Father. The castle would be bear empty in a few hours' time; Margaret would be on her way to Richmond. She expected that Paul would meet her there, that they would face their future together. That had been the understanding. He should write to her, he should tell her what had happened…

He felt his Father's hand on his shoulder. It was firm and warm., but it brought him no comfort.

"Put her out of your mind boy. You have saved the both of you from ruin, this was the only choice you ever had."

* * *

January 9th, 1556  
**RICHMOND PALACE, ENGLAND**

The Lady Anne of Cleves had owned Richmond Palace for 16 years, since the late King Henry had divorced her in 1540, and had received several other residences in the settlement including Hever Castle and Bletchingley Palace. As the litter neared Richmond, in the bitter January air, Margaret could see why this one had become her favorite. Even in the winter gloom, it loomed spectacular and beautiful. They had come through the town of Richmond (once called Sheen) and bundled townsfolk had waved and called out as the court progressed towards the Lady Anne's palace.

Margaret had looked out the window, pulling the velvet curtain back and the Duchess had cleared her throat, looking perturbed.

"Take care not to lift the curtain much my dear, the common rabble can become…rabid in such close quarters with their betters."

She looked at Jane Dudley with skepticism and went to speak, but Catherine put a hand on her arm, smiling sweetly. She knew her mother could be overbearing and had played the peace keeper between the Duchess of Northumberland and Margaret since she had begun lodging with the Dudley's. Madge was so ready to rejoin her Brother's household and be far away from her friend's parents. How Mary, Robert and Catherine had come from such parents was a mystery to Margaret. Ambrose, John the Second and Guildford may have born the marks of their parent's wicked hearts, but the rest did not.

"She had never seen the palace before Mother, she is curious. The people will not riot in the street for a few ladies peeping from their litter!"

The Duchess smiled back at her youngest daughter. She was beaming with pride at Catherine's coming marriage and had been preening that her girl would someday be the Countess of Huntingdon. Her youngest would be a Countess, her eldest was a Baroness. Her sons were well on their way to greatness as well. With John already styled Earl of Warwick and Ambrose bearing the title of Viscount Lisle she had only to worry about Robert and Guildford's futures now. Of course, once Jane's Father died Guildford would be Duke of Suffolk and Marquess of Dorset in his own right.

So that left Robert, and with the ferocious ambition this Lady and her Husband harbored it didn't seem like that was much of an obstacle. It was whispered that Dudley would have Robert Dudley's marriage to Amy Robsart annulled and would wed her to one great heiress or another, further elevating his family and his status. If that were so, and it didn't seem far from the realm of possibility, then Margaret wondered how Elizabeth would feel. Madge knew she loved Robert, she had sent letters between them when she had been in Elizabeth's retinue, and had heard her sigh in name in sleep like a lovesick school girl. As much as she tried to remain cool and untouchable, her love for him was obvious.

Robert was much more animate in his affection for Elizabeth. He had been so melancholy since her departure and had asked his Father for permission to write her, to visit her, to send her books and small trinkets. Dudley had refused all. Edward wanted Mary and Elizabeth at their homes in the country, living quietly under his watchful eye. He fully expected them to remain out of contact with any members of court and John Dudley would never let his son disturb the King's will.

"They look so happy. They love the King very much." Jane said from her spot beside the Duchess, in the grey winter light she looked very pale, almost translucent "They all smile and cheer."

"Of course they love the King! Who would not, when he is guided by such just council and has survived such treachery and danger. He will be a great King, greater than his Father even. The Duke has known this since he was a boy. He has nurtured greatness in him."

The pride in her voice made Margaret want to retch. She knew Dudley's history, how he had ripped power from Edward's surviving Uncle and had taken the helm of Government for himself. Now that Edward was past the age of majority, he was no longer exercised the full power of the crown, but he had the most influence of any of the King's counselors. He rode at the front of the courtly procession, only a few steps behind the King's great destrier. The people called him grasping and feared his influence. Any complaints by unhappy Englishmen were directed towards him, while the King held favor because any taint was contributed to Dudley and his puppet council. That could explain the Duchess's distaste for the "common rabble" and her obvious fear of them.

Finally, after the last of the long bumpy ride was over they arrived at the courtyard of the palace and were escorted out of the litter and into Richmond. The Duchess had explained that the building was ideal for winter, as it was always warmer than any other royal residence and that it did wonders for the health of the 41 year old Lady Anne. The Duchess, who was now in her 47th year, often complained of her ill health and was not much of a fan of King Henry's ex-wife. Her face was quite unimpressed as they entered a warm entrance hall covered in rich tapestries. Margaret didn't recognize many of the scenes in the heavy fabric. Some were biblical, but others were mysteries. The Duchess scoffed.

"These scenes come from the history of her little German Duchy of Cleves. Rather tasteless if you ask me."

Margaret looked about and in the small crowd of people she spotted her Brother talking to the Earl of Pembroke, William Herbert. He looked so handsome and so happy and she had missed him very much in her time with the Dudley's. She did not ask leave of the Duchess, but made her way over to him without hesitation. She had not seen him since Christmas, and she was anxious to speak to him, to gauge his mood and enquire about Mary's health. She was due in the next few weeks and she knew he would be worried and excited. Above all she longed to truly bridge the gap between her and her brother so that her news of Paul would not rip them asunder for good.

The thought of Paul nearly stopped her in her tracks. He would follow the court to Richmond and here they would reveal to Henry their plans. That had been their agreement, but now…now Margaret did not know what to expect. She had yet to see him, hadn't written him and had only hoped that once they met each other her would chase her fears and worries away and denounce Katherine De Vere and her serving girl as malicious liars. She took a deep breath and held that hope close to her. When Henry noticed her he turned from Lord Herbert and greeted her with a toothy smile. She felt her heart flutter.

"Sister." He said with great tenderness "You are looking well. I have longed to see your face since we last parted. I hope the yuletide celebrations were to your liking?"

His words were cordial, their role as Brother and Sister for the public. But the sound of his words said it all, said what he really wanted to say. He had missed her as dearly as she had missed him and he knew what her stay with the Dudley's had done to her. She was safe now, she was home. She beamed.

"More so dear Brother. The only blight upon them was the absence of you and my dear sister Mary and the young Master Phillip." She curtsied to the Earl "Excuse me Lord Herbert, I apologize for my impertinence. I have been heartsick for my Brother and did not think of property."

He smiled his tight, thin lipped smile at Margaret and gave a slight bow. Herbert was a sour man whose allegiance waved in the wind with whatever breeze was strongest. He had come to power with Dudley when they had overthrown the Duke of Somerset. It was rumored that he was in talks with the Grey's to marry his son Henry to the young Catherine Grey, sister to Jane, once the King granted permission.

"Far be it for me to interfere between siblings reunited. If you will excuse me Mistress Sidney."

With that he was gone. Margaret didn't mind, in fact she was rather happy to be alone with her Brother. He gave her hand a slight squeeze."

"How are Mary and Phillip?"

Henry laughed.

"Mary has grown quite tired of her confinement. She says she will not allow me to get her with child ever again. She craves a visit from you. I assured her as soon as you were settled you would go to her."

"Of course! I have so many clothes I have finished for the babe, and I miss her company so."

"Very good. Phillip is doing well. He is teething now, and has just overcome a slight chill-"

Margaret gasped.

"Do not fear, he is healthy and boisterous. The Lady Anne loves him best of the whole nursery."

She had forgotten about the Lady Anne. She looked about the room for the Lady she had heard so many tales about. One of the only surviving wives of Henry VIII's six disastrous unions, she had outlived even Katherine Parr.

"We will not see her now Sister, she hates the hustle and bustle of the whole court at once. But we are to dine with her, and the King, tonight in her private chambers."

"What?"

"Yes, we were invited. I assume you have a suitable gown ready to wear."

Most of her things were packed, but she was sure she could find something in time. Henry took her arm in his and they headed away from the crowds.

"Come. I will show you your rooms. They are spacious, and well furnished. The Lady Anne is a generous hostess."


	20. Chapter 20

January 12th, 1556,  
**RICHMOND PALACE, ENGLAND**

The Lady Anne spied Margaret over her cards, watching as the young woman plucked a card from the center pile. She smiled secretively and nodded to Mistress Bassett beside her.

"Your turn, Lady Catherine."

She turned to Edward, who was busy watching the Sidney girl himself. She could see it in his eyes, that same predatory glare that his Father had mastered. Tudors were a strange breed, their men obsessive and their women…well, Mary and Elizabeth were so completely different from each other it seemed unfair to group them together in that way. But the young King owed half of himself to his Father and it was plain to se that this was Great Harry's son. He smiled softly, and then turned back to his own cards. Anne's ladies sat behind them at the fire, doing their usual needlework.

Catherine Bassett, her long time Lady and friend, passed her turn, examining her cards with a worried look. They had chosen Maw, one of Anne's favorite card games, but a challenging and fast paced one as well. It was her turn next and she quickly threw down two cards, pushing two pairs over to the side. She smiled sweetly and nodded to Henry Sidney, who pulled a card from the pile. He shook his head good naturedly, but it was obvious he wasn't an adept at cards.

After his play, Edward claimed another pair for himself and as he pulled the cards back his hand brushed Madge's ever so gently. She shivered, despite her best efforts not to, and blushed red enough to be seen in the glow of the many candles lighting the room. It was in the heart of the Lady Anne's apartments where Margaret had spent the last three nights playing cards, reading aloud, listening to Lady Anne's musicians, discussing literature and politics and simply enjoying herself.

It had been strange at first. The Lady Anne was a large woman, and had been distant with Margaret on her first visit. But Margaret had asked about the tapestries in the reception hall that she had spied and Anne had been happy to tell her of the tales captured on the sumptuous fabric. Madge had come to love the Lady very dearly in the short span of time she had known her. After the first private dinner, they hadn't eaten in her quarters again. Meals, for the majority of their stay, were going to take the great hall where the court would gather so they could all eat together. But after the meals, Anne would always invite Henry, Margaret and Edward back to her rooms. She called them family, and made them feel as welcome and comfortable as possible.

Anne, who doted on Edward like a son and who was one of the wealthiest women in England, was excited to have the hub of court centered at her home and allowed Edward free reign of her property for Council meetings and other weighty matters of state. Margaret had never seen him more at ease or happier. It was a relief, watching all the strain and fear he'd carried since the assassination attempt melt away. Anne had informed them tonight, before their games had begun, that she planned to facilitate a little dancing for after supper the next night, and he had agreed heartily. He had turned to Madge, a glimmer in his eyes that was unfamiliar to her.

"But I will only consent if Mistress Sidney will vow to save a Galliard for her King."

He had met her eyes and she had met his. The longing there had sent shivers down her spine. This man, this King, was under the impression that they would be wed in the Spring. He was going to make her Queen of England. He loved her. So why, why did this pain still sear her from within? She had masked that ache and smiled sweetly at him, her eyes downcast.

"It would be an honor, Your Majesty."

Edward had been pleased and they had played. Throughout the game she had felt his eyes on her, and Anne's. As the evening came to a close she looked up at the Lady Anne. She had won the game and had they been playing for stakes she would have made considerable earnings. But she had ushered them to put their coins away. It was true, the Lady of Cleves loved to gamble, but what need did she have of their money? Truly, Edward was the only one wealthier than her in the room, and she would no sooner take his money than steal from a beggar.

As they left their seats and began bidding each other goodnight, Anne tugged gently on her elbow. Their arms remained entwined as she led the group out.

"Will you join me at my prayers in the morning Little Madge? We could then break our fasts and I could take you on a tour of my gardens. it is cold, but a breif walk outdoors is good for the constitution in any weather. Would you like that?"

Madge nodded, loosening her arms and curtseying slightly as she backed out of the room.

"At what hour would you expect me My Lady? I would be most glad of your company, and I am eager to see the many beauties of your property."

Anne seemed genuinely excited at her answer. So Margaret had left the Lady Anne's chambers beside her brother, who spoke quietly to the King. She would in fact spend many morning with Anne during her stay at Richmond, the next morning would be the first of those many outings. Just then, she only knew that she was glad of Anne's kindness. As the men beside her spoke, Margaret did not try to listen, the ache was creeping back again and she could hear nothing but the rushing doubt and anger that filled her head and heart.

The King's Guard waited for Edward outside of Anne's presence chamber and seemed to create a protective barrier around them as they walked. Margaret looked down at her slippers, the hem of her gown swooshing against the cold stone floor. The thoughts of Paul consumed her. He was still at Greenwich, as Katherine De Vere had explained. He had not followed the court to Richmond. He had stayed behind and he had married Katherine's serving woman. Joan Rowley was now Jane Bingham, and expecting Paul's child in eight to nine months' time.

She repeated that sentence in her head. Its force was painful every time, but it brought her back from the abyss. Paul's betrayals, his lies and his deceptions were proof that his "love" for her had been false. It had been an abomination, a trick he played upon her. If not for the Lady De Vere's interference he would have been her ruin and her downfall. She had blinded herself to a future in which she would have angered and offended the King. They would have been at his mercy, all for a love that was as counterfeit as a diamond shaped bit of glass. It hurt; it hurt so badly she had found herself waking from sleep, strangled sobs trapped in her throat. Her maid slept on a pallet outside the door, but she always felt so completely and utterly alone. Her Brother, puffed up on pride in his sister and contentment with his growing family, noticed nothing. Her friends were slightly more in tune with her melancholy. Mary, who was growing increasingly frustrated with her confinement, had pestered her. She had been far from their little group, but she had been sure each of them came to visit her in her shuttered room. She had learned of all the news, all the gossip, all that had transpired without her. When she had spoken to Madge, she had learned of her brief imprisonment for the first time. She was angry at having been denied the information sooner, but soon forgot her grievance as she inspected Madge's face.

"What ails you child?" she had said softly, looking as round as ever beneath her quilts "You look as pale and sickly as a ghost."

Margaret had shooed her off, blaming it on a small megrim she had suffered a week or so before. Mary hadn't believed her, but Madge had been able to escape without further questioning, and it was easy to hide from a woman in confinement. She thought of Mary now, as they neared Henry's rooms. She was tired, and hoped that tonight she might have a night of dreamless sleep. As she neared the door she heard Edward behind her.

"Mistress Sidney." He said quietly "You have wounded me."

She startled, turning to face him. She had been unaware of his presence, even though they had left the Lady Anne's rooms together. Henry was staring at her, worry evident in his face, but before he could speak Edward put a hand on his shoulder.

"I would have a word with your sister Sir Sidney. I beg of you, it shall be but a moment before I return her."

Henry nodded, but flashed Margaret a look of warning as he walked through the door. When it shut, the King nodded to the head of his guard. With a snap of his head, he lead his men farther down the hall. In this corner, they were defended from the only exit. Edward turned to Madge as the guard disappeared from sight. He looked pained, sad now where he had been joyous earlier that evening.

"Your Majesty I beg your forgiveness if I have done anything at all to-"

Without a word he stepped forward. His strong hands encircled her shoulders and her waist and he gently pulled her towards him. In the orange and yellow glow of the torchlight she could see his face above her, his eyes radiating concern. She was confused, but did not fight his embrace. With a long breath she closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest. His heart fluttered beneath her cheek. The King's heart beat this way for her. In his arms, the pain seemed to subside, if only for a moment.

"No, foolish girl! Your pain wounds me. I can see it within you, where once you were bright with contentment. Now, it is as if the weight of Atlas is upon your shoulders. What ails you? What troubles you so? I would share your burden Lady, I would gladly do it."

She felt tears brim in her eyes. This man, his words as sweet and as true as any ever uttered, was a truly honorable man. The love he felt for her, the love she had denied herself because of her infatuation with a deceitful stable hand. This was her King and a man of honor. He was King not only in blood, but in bearing. His words were salve and flame at once, healing and hurting her in kind. She could not bear it anymore. Planting her hands on his chest she pushed him from her. Tears streamed down her face now.

"Your Majesty I do not deserve it!" she hissed, stumbling back into the cold, stone wall "I do not deserve your concern or your love."

"What nonsense is this?" he reached for her but she recoiled "You are the most worthy Lady I have ever known. You do not desire me for my crown, or my riches, you do not wish to be my bride out of ambition or avarice. You know me as a man, a man of flesh and bone as any other. Marriage is a blessing from God, and I would have you above any other. God has placed you before me, I have prayed on it and I have studied and nothing that you could say would persuade me otherwise."

She sobbed, looking down at the floor. She couldn't tell him. She could not admit her mistake. She was afraid, not of losing her life or of being arrested. Margaret was afraid of losing his love. She needed him to love her, for she knew now that no matter how much she had loved Paul he had not loved her and Edward said his heart was hers. She felt tenderness for him too, she could not deny it. Not anymore. Now nothing stood in their way. He would love her, cherish her, and make her his Queen. Edward Tudor was the man destined to be her husband and she was destined to be his helpmate. In the darkness of the corridor she knew these to be the only truths that mattered in her universe. Everything had changed, and it was as if the earth had shifted beneath her. Something inside her was stitching together, something was healing. She let him gather her close to him again.

"Edward Tudor." She whispered his name aloud, letting the words tumble from her mouth without thinking "I love thee."

He froze. She did not think, only acted. Her hands reached for him, caressing his face, his neck and her fingers winding themselves in the red tinted hair that hung there. His eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment and then him lips were upon hers. None of the subdued brushing of lips they had shared before, this was a flame of passion. He lifted her up, pressing her back against the stone as he covered her with hisses. His lips explored her lips, her jaw, her throat and her shoulders. His hands pressed into her back, desperate for contact through the layers of material. She let out a sigh, giving into the desire she had long stifled. Whether it was Paul or Edward, Edward or Paul, she needed this release.

Suddenly his hands were beneath her skirts, the only thing separating them from her skin were her stockings. She felt their warmth on her back side, her calves and her thighs. When his hands began to wander closer to her heat she suddenly snapped back to reality. She pulled away from him, the sudden movement forcing her to slam her head into the stone. A loud thud echoed around them. Madge let out a his off pain and felt a warm trickle of liquid trail down her neck. Edward's eyes flew open and it seemed that the painful sound had shocked him back to reality as well. He gingerly sat her feet back upon the floor.

"Mistress Sidney I…I beg your forgiveness, I have been a fool. You have never spoken thusly, and I…"

"Your Majesty." She lifted a hand to the back of her head, where a small cut could be felt on the surface of a growing goose egg "There is no forgiveness to seek. I was just as much to blame as you. I only…I cannot."

He turned her around before she could finish. He brushed back her hair, which now hung loose around her shoulders and she felt him dab a cloth at the back of her neck. He pressed it to the small cut and it stung for a moment, but only a moment. Then she felt his lips on her skin again, kissing the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. The kisses were soft and sweet, nothing like the ones that had nearly burned through her before. She turned slowly, facing him again.

"I meant what I said before My Lord."

Edward didn't speak. He traced his finger up and down her collarbone, making her hum with desire. She could see the great ring of state on his finger. She clenched her teeth against the wave of heat in her lower belly. She needed to focus now, or she would be a useless pile of flesh at his feet.

"I am not worthy of your love. I am a Lady unfit for Queenship."

He buried his hands in her hair and pulled her face close to his. Gently kissing one cheek and then another.

"You, Margaret Sidney, will be the greatest Queen England has ever had. Believe in the wisdom of your King and husband."

"Not a husband yet, Your Majesty." She said, unable to stop the mischievous smile that crossed her face.

"Not a husband now, but soon enough, my Madge. Soon enough and you shall be mine, mind, body and soul; and I will be yours if you will have me."

She was silent, staring into the eyes of a King. She sighed.

"I would have you a thousand time over." She whispered, her lips so close to his she could felt the heat of his breath against her "Over, and over again."

He stirred against her thigh and laughed. For a moment she was horrified at her words, at the seductive tone she had used with him, but he seemed unperturbed. He gave her one last tight embrace and then kissed her hand. He was gone without a word.

For many minutes Margaret leaned back against the stones. Pain and happiness competed inside her for dominance. She had given in, at last, and while the pain of Paul's betrayal was fresh in her heart, a new dawn beckoned.

"Queen Margaret. Margaret, Queen of England."

She whispered the words to herself, a secret smile on her face. For the first time in many nights, she slept peacefully and awoke refreshed.

* * *

January 20th, 1556,  
**RICHMOND PALACE, ENGLAND**

"Mary! Mary you must push!"

The room was growing hotter by the minute. Margaret could feel the sweat pooling in her gown as she held onto Mary's hand tightly. The strain of the birth was sapping her strength. Where Phillip's birth had been simple, this one was trying her resolve. She bit down on the twisted bit of rag the midwife had given her and stifled another scream.

"I cannot! Cut it lose from me or I shall be ripped asunder!"

Madge winced at the words. Mary was in a fever of pain and exhaustion. It had been a full day and night that she had struggled and the looks of the midwives and physicians worried her. What was wrong? Why would the babe not emerge? She tried to detangle her hand from Mary's, but the woman screamed in pain. The midwife gasped.

A gouge of blood from Mary's womb stained the bed.

"Oh Lord Jesus! Oh God!"

Another scream. Margaret felt to her knees as her sister-in-law struggled. She began to pray, her words tangling up as tears tracked down her face. The sound of the door opening took her from her prayers for a moment. It was Catherine and her Mother. Jane Dudley, who had birthed many a babe in her day, approached the bed.

"Hus child, your Mother is here."

She nodded at Margaret.

"I thank you for your care of my daughter Mistress Sidney." She said softly "But you may take leave. Rest, eat, you have ben by her side for nigh on four hours."

Madge nodded. She stood and nearly stumbled. Catherine helped her towards the door. She would return, but she needed rest and something to eat. She was tired and famished. She watched as Catherine took her place beside Mary and shut the door as another scream echoed from within. As she entered the receiving chamber she spotted the Duke of Northumberland and her brother. Both looked up at her expectantly.

"Pray." Madge said in a very quiet voice "My Lady sister suffers much."

Henry looked stricken. He jumped up and began to pace, while Dudley rubbed his hands together and stared at the floor.

"Where is Phillip?" Margaret asked levelly, before taking a drink of the strong wine her brother's steward had brought in "He should be on hand."

"For what reason?" Henry nearly sobbed "He will see his mother and his brother when this ordeal is over."

Margaret looked at him. She did not speak, but he could see her answer in her face. She feared for Mary and for the babe. Childbirth was dangerous business and she had seen her share of tragedy in the child bed. Every woman had, it was their duty to endure the ordeal, payment for Original sin. Mary Sidney was paying her fair share that night.

"Madge is right." Dudley said. Margaret shivered at his use of her pet name "You, girl, have someone fetch the nurse and have her bring the boy. If it is the last time he should see his Mother alive, I would have him close at hand."

"How dare you speak in such a manner? She is your daughter sir! And my wife! I will hear none of it!"

He slammed a book down on the floor that had been sitting atop his desk. Dudley did not flinch.

"If you were dying, what would you give to behold your boy one last time Sidney?"

"She will not die!"

Henry looked as if he would murder his Father-in-law, but a scream from within froze him in his tracks. Then all was quiet. In the ensuing silence an infant's wail could be heard.

"Praise God!" Dudley shouted.

Margaret didn't wait. She jolted out of the room, rushing into Mary's chambers. As she entered, Mary was laying back against her pillows, sweat running down her pale face. She smiled. The midwife was packing her womb and cleaning up the blood around her thighs.

"All is well sister." She said quietly "Would you meet your niece now?"

Madge felt her heart soar. A girl! True, sons were what most men desired but Henry had Phillip and they were still young. More sons would come, but a girl! Margaret looked at the Duchess rocked the babe in her arms.

"Come and see your namesake Mistress Sidney." She smiled sweetly, the first time Madge had ever seen the woman let her guard down. She could almost imagine Jane Dudley as a young woman herself, a new mother.

"You have named her Margaret?" she whispered, looking at Mary. Mary nodded and smiled as the Duchess handed her the babe. "She is perfect!"

And she was. Little Margaret Sidney. Madge felt her heart flutter as she rocked the babe in her arms. She thanked God for her both Mary and the baby's safe delivery. Catherine laughed.

"Look at her! She wants her own babe now, I'll wager. It spreads like a fever, as Mother always said."

She winked and Madge passed the child over to her.

"The next girl will be a Catherine I hope." She joked, running her fingers over the baby's soft skin "But Margaret is a good name. I assume many women will be naming their girl children Margaret in the coming years."

Margaret met her eyes.

"And pray the next babe you hold is your own. A Prince of Wales if you're lucky."

The room grew silent. Margaret felt the weight of the words upon her. If she and Edward married and had children, those children would be Princes and Princesses. Her first born son would be a King. The thought sent her mind reeling. Mary clucked.

"That is far enough away. For now, you must settle on being her God Mother." She sat up straighter in her bed, the same old Mary "Now, would you fetch your brother my dear? I do assume he'll be riddled with worry."

He was, but at news of a healthy daughter he was ecstatic. Dudley betrayed no emotion. As Henry rushed inside he turned to Margaret with a smile. That smile was no reassuring. Once again she wondered how Mary had come from this man. He made her shiver with discomfort.

"Your Granddaughter is beautiful Your Grace." She said quietly, in a desperate attempt to break the silence "And your daughter has been a brave a Lady as I have known."

Dudley nodded his head curtly and turned towards the now open door. He looked inside and then headed in, without making a sound. Margaret pondered him as he settled beside his wife. This child was yet another tether to Dudley. Her family was more entangled with his than ever. Their fortunes were intertwined. That thought was not a pleasant one...


	21. Chapter 21

**January 27th, 1556,**  
_RICHMOND PALACE, ENGLAND_

Exactly a week after his daughter's birth, Henry Sidney found himself at her christening. Beside him, despite his many protests, was his wife Mary. She stood, proud and pale in a gown of pale pink watching as the Lady Anne's own Chaplain blessed their little Margaret. His sister Madge held the babe in her arms, and King Edward stood behind her. They had named the two as Godparents and the whole court watched in fascination as Edward and the upstart Sidney girl stood in for the child, vowing to care for her in the event of her parent's death. None of the silly Popery the Catholics used, just a simple ceremony dedicating this little life to God almighty. Her soul would not be forfeit if she wasn't sprinkled with that "holy" water, but the King's own prayer book allowed for infant baptisms and christenings. Things changed in England with the new church, but not all things, and Henry felt a sense of relief at his daughter's baptism, as he had at his son's nearly two years prior. It was a talisman against any evil that may seek to harm the child. Hadn't his Mother told him that as a youth at Margaret's own baptism?

But his Mother had harbored secrets. He could remember times when his Father had screamed at her, in fear and anger, but he could not remember what had been said. Of course, when she had died and he had been in charge of handling his parent's estates he had found numerous pieces of evidence pointing to Anne Sidney's closeted faith. He had kept them secret of course, but as if she had read his mind Madge approached him after the ceremony.

"Henry, where is Mother's christening gown? The one she used for all us Sidney girls? I had hoped we could use it for little Margaret today but Mary said-"

"The gown was lost." He said, trying to give a believable sad smile "But the one the Lady Anne made for her does quite nicely. Don't you agree?"

And she did. Margaret was quite fond of the Lady Anne, and would not naysay her work. In her time at Richmond, she had seen a side of Edward, through his relationship with Anne that she hadn't ever seen before. It had shown, in the way she looked at him and spoke of him. The marriage to the King was inevitable, but Henry was glad to see she'd finally realized the worth of their sovereign. Edward would make Margaret a fine husband, and the pride her felt at being the soon-to-be-Queen's sister was almost palpable. His star had never risen so fast, and there were whispers that it would raise even higher.

He and Mary had spoken of it recently. He had explained that they must not appear to ambitious. Other families like the Seymour's and Woodville's had garnered the hatred of the people because of their grasps for power. He did not mention the tide of public disdain for the Dudley's because it would only serve to anger her. But she agreed with him, and was very good at not flaunting her new status as a Baroness around court.

Margaret helped the most. She was clearly so unconcerned with power and wealth that the court (and soon the common people) had begun to praise her as a gracious Lady. But the lack of an official betrothal worried Henry. There where whispers that Margaret and the King were already married or had been secretly wed. None of this was true and her wanted nothing to tarnish his sister's reputation. So, when the King summoned him to a brisk walk in the gardens later that afternoon her obliged. If there was no mention of the marriage Henry would bring it up himself. He must know, and soon.

As he entered the Lady Anne's private garden, he noticed the fair weather. The sun shone, and though there was a small breeze, the weather was bearable. He spotted the King and his chaplain Edmund Grindal speaking quietly a few feet ahead of him. He hurried towards them but then as he neared he spotted his Father-in-law with the two men. Dudley, as ever, mingling in the heart of things. Sometimes Henry was sure nothing happened without Dudley's consent. Dudley, who had been seemingly overjoyed that his family was now so closely affiliated with the Sidney's, now seemed perturbed at Henry and Margaret's growing influence with the King.

_Be afraid Dudley. _He thought to himself, smiling despite his distaste _My sister will eclipse you soon enough._

The idea of having that power, through his sister, was a heady brew. But he would not drink too deeply; Henry Sidney had no delusions of grandeur. He wanted only what was best for his family.

"Baron Sidney." Edward approached him and embraced him before Henry could even manage a bow "How fairs my God daughter? Is she settled in the nursery?"

Henry grinned at his boyhood friend, and his King.

"I'm afraid the women are harassing the poor babe in the solar. It is as if they have never glimpsed a babe before."

The men all laughed, including Dudley. They walked together quietly, noticing the beauty in the gardens despite the fact that the majority of the plants were bare in the pale January sunlight.

"Ah son, every babe is more a miracle than the last. A woman's work is never done." The Duke winked at Henry "And I wager my daughter will provide you with an abundance of babes. If she is in anyway like her mother you'll get closer to a dozen than two."

Henry nodded. He was proud of Mary, who had defied traditional "churching" and was up and about, writing missives to get their new priorities in order. The added prestige and responsibility suited her. He wanted more of it for her. It made her happy and she deserved happiness.

"I wouldn't mind a dozen babes of my own." Edward mused to himself "I have always wanted a big family, with many children, boys and girls."

Henry didn't speak. He wouldn't tout his own family's breeding. His Mother had birthed five healthy babes and two of her three daughters had healthy children of their own. Chances were, Margaret would bear him healthy sons and daughters. He'd just have to marry her.

"Do you remember?" Edward said with a mischievous smile "A conversation we three shared in the gardens of Hampton court last fall?"

He gestured to himself, to Henry and to Grindal.

"Grindal spoke of marrying your sister off, and you worried that she was too young. Is that still the case Lord Sidney?"

Henry paused, weighing his words.

"It would depend on the candidate, Your Majesty. I would prefer a man closer to her age, I would not marry her to a man of many years. She would be unhappy, I suspect."

Edward mused for a moment. Dudley grinned, his stiff courtier's smile. Grindal was reading in his book again, ignoring the conversation. Edward did not care; it seemed he was speaking to Henry alone now.

"I, myself, am eighteen my Lord. Is that an age suitable enough to set a brother's worries at ease?"

Henry took a deep breath, he stared his King directly in the face.

"Your Majesty, eighteen is a very compatible age as my sister is but seventeen years herself."

He waited, as she King looked forward, a strange look in his eye.

"Then it would not be foolish of me to ask for your sister's hand? I would make her my wife, if you were to consent, my friend."

It was a formality of course, but the genuine look of happiness in the King's eyes made Henry feel a rush of sentiment as well. He could marry Margaret with or without Henry's permission, as he was King and she was willing (or so Henry believed). He stopped walking for a moment and faced Edward solemnly.

"It would be an honor to grant my sister to you as a bride. I would include a respectable dower, and would gladly present her to you on your wedding day, Your Majesty."

Edward's face beamed. It seemed this long sought dream was now coming to fruition.

"It is settled then. I promised your sister a March wedding, but in my zeal I forgot about the onset of the Lenten season. I would instead expedite the marriage. We have enough time between now and the feast of Valentine to plan an adequate wedding. And if it is not as grand as I'd planned, so be it. I will make up for it at Margaret's coronation."

Henry's jaw nearly fell. Coronation? He had expected the wait for that honor to be long, at least until she had borne him a child, but it seemed Edward had other plans. Even Northumberland looked dumfounded. He went to speak but Edward held out one long fingered hand to silence him. He was enraptured, finally having moved his last mountain. He would wed Margaret, and he would find a happiness his Father had never been able to. They would build the family he never had, and he nearly ran into the palace in search of her. Only Grindal's dreary voice brought him back from his revelry.

"Of course." the Chaplain said solemnly "Her character and faith should be above reproach. Perhaps, to alleviate the fears of some of your subjects-"

"Fears?" Edward turned on Grindal, anger evident in his face "What fears will they have of the Baron's sister?"

Grindal took a deep breath. Henry thought he saw him give Dudley a look, but it was so brief her couldn't be sure.

"There are questions, Your Majesty, about the Lady's relationship with the King's sisters. It is whispered she was not only a close friends and confidant of the Lady Elizabeth but also secretly served the Lady Mary as well. That idea, with the flourishing of the true religion reaching it zenith, has made some of Your Majesty's most loyal subjects fearful of the choice."

There was silence. Edward looked ready to explode, but he kept calm. He turned to Henry.

"The marriage will proceed as planned. I will arrange a private audience with Margaret and a small council of my choosing before the marriage is announced. They will not find her wanting."

Henry nodded, but his pride stung at the thought his sister would be subjected to men trying to tear down her reputation. He had warned her of how foolish this business with the Lady Mary had been, and her involvement with the Lady Elizabeth during her brief imprisonment still echoed in court gossip. Soon Edward and his Chaplain were gone and Henry was left in the chilly air with his silent Father-in-law.

"I will assure that Margaret will leave that council meeting unscathed. She will be Queen, Henry, do not think on it overmuch."

He had enough power to promise this, Henry knew. But any boons he accepted on Margaret's behalf would have to be repaid later. So he did not speak, only issued the Duke another curt nod. It seemed that there would still be obstacles to ensuring Margaret's safety and wellbeing. He needed to speak to her, to warn her of what was to come. Never had he heard of a future Queen of England being questioned by the King's men. Many women had been called to testify after being wed to English Kings, their crowns and lives were often forfeit, but never before the betrothal was even officially announced. He did not know what to make of it. What was Grindal planning? And Dudley? Was he behind this?

Whatever happened, he had to assure that Margaret was above reproach. This would be her last battle before she triumphed. The King had even mentioned a Coronation. He couldn't even imagine it, his little Madge a crowned and anointed Queen. It was like some fairy story his nurse had spun for him as a boy. As he left Dudley's company and entered the palace he suddenly felt tired. Margaret's fate was tied to his, and her welfare was his to oversee. He wondered if these years since his parent's deaths would serve to make him a better Father for Phillip and little Margaret.

* * *

**January 31st, 1556,**  
_RICHMOND PALACE, ENGLAND_

"Catherine you look so lovely!" Margaret said as she clasped her friends hands in her own "Now Elizabeth and I are the last of our little group left single."

They both laughed, seated as they were at the high table in the Lady Anne's great hall. The banquet after Catherine's wedding had lasted well into the night. It was nearing the time when the court would escort the couple to their marriage bed and bid them goodnight, where the marriage would be consummated. Catherine, who could have been mistaken for Helen of Troy, wore her long blonde hair down to her waist. It was the last night of her life she would wear her hair that way in public. The mark of a virgin, and after tonight she would no longer be a maiden.

"Oh we will be celebrating your wedding soon enough, and I can't imagine Edward would let Elizabeth grow into an old spinster like her sister. Word is that the Prince of Sweden will return this summer and Edward will begin negotiations in earnest. She would be a Princess till old Gustav died and then she would be Queen. Our little court within a court, producing two Queens, a Duchess, a Baroness and a Countess. Even though Eleanor is but a Knight's wife, she will be a Lady in your retinue and we will all be as happy as we could be."

She was flushed with wine and happiness in her new bridegroom. It was obvious she was fond of Henry and Henry was fond of her in return. A marriage arraigned by their elders had bloomed into a love match. Margaret, herself having tasted enough wine to make her cheeks flush, looked out into the dancing crowd. The Lady Anne and the King lead the dance, but Margaret spotted Mary and Henry, the Duke of Northumberland and his wife, and Jane and Guildford.

"Yes we will." Margaret said, not wanting to ruin her friend's day "By God's grace."

That thought sent her mind reeling. By Candlemas she would be expected to meet a small council of the King's choosing. They would be interviewing her, and assessing if she was fit to be a Queen, and Edward's wife. Of course, she couldn't call it Candlemas that day. That was a strictly Catholic holiday and this meeting would address questions of Margaret's affiliation with Edward's hated, Catholic, sister Mary. Even her relationship with his less hated, but still dangerous Elizabeth would be called into question. Henry, who had warned her days earlier of this development, hadn't even pressed the fact that he had warned her of the danger months earlier and she had not headed him. But how could she have known that she would be facing a marriage to a King and the weight of a crown?

Suddenly the music stopped. Edward stood amidst the dancers, a hand on his friend Henry's shoulder. He gestured towards the table where Margaret and Catherine sat. He gestured for them to rise and they did, curtseying slightly at the King.

"Hear me!" his voice boomed throughout the hall "The time has come for the Bride and Groom to retire to their chambers!"

Henry smiled widely and rushed to Catherine's side, taking her hand in his and whispering something in her ear. She giggled and Margaret blushed brightly. At this the court let out a cheer and the procession towards their marriage bed began. Not everyone would follow, but those who did were raucous. As they left, Margaret felt Grindal's sharp stare tearing into her. What gauntlet would he throw her into in the coming days? She couldn't know, but she could hope that Edward and Henry could protect her.

"Poor Catherine." Edward whispered behind her as they headed out of the doors of the Great Hall "Eclipsed by her bride's maid. She loves you so or she would have been sour all night."

Margaret smiled, despite her fears. She and Edward had fallen back, and in the commotion only his guards had noticed.

"You jest sire." she said softly "Catherine is a great beauty and I can only hope to-"

He laughed, brushing a strand of hair back from her face.

"Foolish Margaret, you cannot see your own worth. It is no small deed to bewitch a King."

She let out a low, slow breath.

"That is not a word I would invite Your Majesty."

He looked confused for a moment.

"You see, I soon face judges who would seek to question whether or not I am fit to be your bride. In the past, wives of King's have come under certain suspicions. Both Anne Boleyn and Elizabeth Woodville were accused of witchcraft because of the love their Kings bore them. I fear that many would see my ruin, and would use any means necessary to bring it about. I am ill prepared..."

She let her words die off. They were at the end of the procession, but they had come to the Earl of Huntingdon's chambers. Inside, his wife Catherine had instructed her servants to create a path of expensive wax candles to lead towards the bedroom. Anne of Cleves's chaplain, a squat German man with a kind smile, lead the young couple along. Margaret, who always felt strange at these sort of things, followed behind. She was very aware of Edward's presence beside her and of their unspoken words.

The Chaplain said a few words about the sanctity of the marriage bed and about God's expectations to be fruitful and mulitply. The group of onlookers said a solemn prayer and then Hastings lead his wife to the bed. They got in and piled under the new coverlet, which had a huge H and C newly embroidered into it. there were bawdy jests and plenty of laughter, and Catherine stared at Henry with a trust and desire that made Margaret feel a bloom of hope. She was beginning to feel that way for Edward, and if Catherine could come to love her husband so purely, then there was hope that she would too.

As the party left the chambers, many went in haste to return to the Great Hall, but Margaret wanted to retire to her own bed. Her head was spinning. As she turned to go, she felt Edward's hand grip her own.

"Sleep well, my love. You have nothing to fear while I am King in England."

Margaret hoped, beyond hope, that those words would ring true.


	22. Chapter 22

**February 2nd, 1556,** _RICHMOND PALACE, ENGLAND_

The council chamber was somber in the mid afternoon sunlight, quieter than it had been even on the first Privy Council meeting after the death of King Henry VIII, his own Father. Edward sat at the head of the table, in his ornately carved chair. The Lady Anne had provided it amongst the rest of the rich furnishings in his rooms at Richmond. His royal standard hung behind him, and he was dressed regally in all black, from his hose to his doublet. The ensemble was hemmed with gold thread and the slashes in his sleeves showed gem studded gold silk underneath. His head rested on his chin, and the light streaming from the window above him caught his red gold hair and set it aflame.

On his right were five men, on his left another five. Ten members of the seventeen member privy council were present. Some had not come to the Lady Anne's palace, as this had been seen as a time of leisure for the King with his former step mother. Out of the ones that had accompanied him, he and Northumberland had handpicked them men that Margaret would face. Edward's faith in her was unwavering, his love free of doubt. But he needed his council to see the truth in his choice, needed to clear the path for Margaret and their unborn children. Women not of royal blood had become Queens of England before, but there always seemed to be obstacles and dangers for them at every turn. He must have the support of his Nobles.

But he had made the hearing a state secret. It was not to be spoken of amidst the courtiers, or outside the palace walls. The other councilors would be informed after the fact, but the King's marriage was something that had been all but sealed. This was only a formality, as Edward had made very clear. No one was to berate or attack Mistress Sidney. Their function had been made very clear. These men knew their limits. But just in case they sought to defy him, he had appeared at the Council meeting, surprising the men with his last minute arrival. Even Madge didn't know he would be present.

"Mistress Margaret Sidney!"

The herald's cry brought life back into the silent room. As the door opened, Margaret came walking towards the dais. When her eyes met Edward's he saw a great deal of fear flee from them. He smiled warmly, wishing he could step down and take her hand, to reassure her of her safe place as his future Queen. She was the beloved of a King, she should walk these halls with no fear. She smiled in return, and he saw her back straighten and her gait quicken. She came to a halt in front of the eleven men before her.

To the right of the King sat the Duke of Northumberland, the Archbishops of York and Canterbury, the Duke of Suffolk and the Earl of Pembroke. To his left sat the Marquis of Winchester, the Earl of Huntingdon, the Earl of Sussex, the Earl of Lincoln and Baron Paget.

Northumberland, Suffolk and Pembroke would be on his side, Dudley had assured him. Winchester, Huntingdon and Paget were outright supporters of Margaret and the Earl of Sussex (who had only recently been elevated to the Privy Council) was her brother-in-law. Lincoln was malleable and Edward was sure he would deliver the verdict he expected. The Archbishops would hold to her. She was a good, Protestant girl raised in a good, Protestant household. She stood in front of them, dressed in a simple black and grey gown, with her hair pulled back into a simple, white, veil. She looked beautiful, but her face was puffy and red, as if she had just been weeping. His hands flexed at the thought. The Lady Anne had told him that she had suffered from anxieties and fears in the past few days. She had refused to see him, claiming that she was ill. Now, she stood before them humbled and beautiful in her penitent's garb.

"Mistress Margaret Sidney, formerly of Croxden, daughter of Sir William Sidney and Lady Anne Sidney. Sister of Henry Sidney, Viscount Humber, and subject of His Majesty Edward the Sixth of England. You have been summoned before this Council today to arrange the details of your Betrothal to the King. You stand before us as any other subject who stands before the King's Council. You must swear to tell only the truth and to hide nothing from the men of this body. Do you understand these obligations Mistress Sidney?"

She stood silent for a moment as Dudley addressed her. Then she took a deep breath and nodded her head.

"I do Your Grace."

Dudley cleared his throat. He looked stern and cold. No one would know that this young woman was the sister of his son-in-law. She had spent time in his household, she was his kin. But first and foremost he was an agent of the King, and Edward had told him he must show her no outer favor. He had agreed with his Sovereign.

"Mistress, to marry the King would make you Queen of this entire Kingdom. As such, you will be the First lady of the land, a woman above reproach. You will birth the future Kings of this dynasty, and the future Queens of many others throughout Europe."

Margaret's eyes widened and the looked as if she would speak, but she stopped herself. Edward felt a trill of amusement. She no longer looked afraid, but almost angry. That fire within her was something that drew him to her.

"Do you so swear that you would come to this marriage unsullied by the taint of any sin of fornication?"

She hissed in a breath and a hand raised to cover her heart.

"Do you swear Mistress?"

Margaret looked Dudley directly in the eye and in turn met the gaze of every man before her.

"I am as good, an pure a Christian Maiden as can be found in all of England, Your Grace. I have never before even spoken of such matters with a man, let alone the myriad of men on the King's own Council."

Her voice echoed in the chamber, and her face reddened, and her eyes fell back to her feet. Edward's first instinct was to stop the proceedings, but they did her no dishonor. The marriage contract of a King was public knowledge, and all of these facts would come into consideration for any bride, and Margaret was no Princess or Duchess. She faced tougher scrutiny. She had to prove herself a worthy candidate for Queen, especially considering the honors and privileges he planned on bestowing upon her in the coming days and weeks.

"You need only answer that you do swear it, Mistress." Dudley's tone was slightly gentler this time.

Madge's lips pursed.

"I do swear it."

Dudley continued, the list of questions and queries he sighted had been taken directly from articles in the marriage contract Margaret's brother would sign. She passed each of them with flying colors. Most consisted of matters of her virtue and her faith. Every answer she gave proved her to be worthy of Queenship and Edward beamed with pride. They asked questions pertaining to her upbringing, her family history, and the fertility of her women kin. As the questions continued, the tone in the room began to change. Daughters of the great families of England were born and bred for this, but this girl, tucked away for most of her life in her Father's simplest hamlet, seemed bred of steel and fire as the questions progressed. Edward sat in awe at the woman he was soon to marry. She had come to him as a simple, country maid, so different from her polished brother and the other Ladies that ornamented his court. She had looked at him as if he were Zeus coming down from Olympus, a God on Earth. But then, slowly, she had come to see him as a man. He thought of all their time together. She had brightened his Winter like a second sun. He had never seen his Father truly love. He had never seen many of his Nobles truly love, at least not with their _wives. _He had grown up in a world where love seemed as dangerous as it was rare, and he had never expected to experience the sensation himself. Yet there she was, and as strong as she looked standing before his noblest advisors, he knew that her soft body fit perfectly in his, as if he could cradle and protect her. She had made him feel strong, feel like a man, and with her he would leave behind the last of his boyhood and step into his own as King. He would rule, as his Father had, with absolute authority, but he would not be his Father.

He would never, ever, harm or endanger the beautiful creature who stood before him. As the Council finished rattling off the last of the articles in the contract, he stood, lifting a hand to signal silence. They all looked up at him, Margaret included. He smiled down at her and then left his throne, making his way down to her. He stood before her, staring down at her and then extended his hand to take hers. Very slowly, she surrendered her hand. He lifted it, and brought it to his lips. He could feel her heart beating wildly, through the thing skin of her wrist. He felt joy and desire and excitement well up inside of him, but most importantly he saw those feelings mirrored in her eyes. Through her veil, a small reddish-brown curl had escaped and he resisted the urge to tuck it away. He then plucked a ruby ring from his finger and slid the gold band on her right hand. When they wed it would switch to her left, on the third finger, because it housed a vein that lead directly to the heart. He leaned down, and spoke softly, only to her.

"My Father gave this ring to my Lady Mother the day they were married. I would have you as my wife Margaret. Will you take me?"

She was silent for a moment. She closed her eyes and when she opened them they were wet with tears, but she smiled and leaned into him just an inch.

"Your Majesty, I would have no other."

Edward beamed and turned back to his Council, lifting Margaret's hand up high.

"We are finished here My Lords. I thank you for fulfilling your duty to me. This Lady here is to be my wife, and your Queen. We will feast tonight, in her honor!"

Dudley smiled down at them and tied the vellum copy of the marriage contract with a heavy thread. All the men rose from their seats and bowed to their King, and apparently their future Queen.

"But sire, we have a few more aspect of the contract to discuss with the Lady-"

"Northumberland I have ruled it. It is done. She has proven herself more than worthy and has soothed any doubts or fears that may still linger in foolish men's minds. This will be put on record for anyone who seeks to question her ever again."

His most powerful Councilor let out a small chuckle and shook his head. Edward tensed.

"You Majesty, I refer to the bestowal of titles and lands for the Lady Sidney."

Margaret now tensed herself, but Edward let out a booming laugh. He turned, his smile reminding her of her young Nephew when he was allowed time for play. He had spoken nothing of titles.

"I am to make you Duchess of Richmond this day my love, I had nearly forgotten."

In the midst of all the King's Council, Margaret felt her jaw drop. She quickly closed her mouth, but her eyes raced from Edward to Dudley back to Edward.

"I cannot be-"

He laughed again and held up a hand to one of the men standing at attention at the door.

"Call for Henry Sidney! We will sign these documents and then we must make ready for our feasting!"


End file.
